


Liberation of the Lycans

by ract46



Series: WERES AU [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Anal Sex, BDSM, Bestiality, M/M, Oral Sex, piss drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2018-11-08 04:37:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 57,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11074200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ract46/pseuds/ract46
Summary: The Union has taken his mate, his lovers, and his brothers.  The team sent to rescue them failed.Will Stiles be reunited with Derek, Scott, and Isaac?Will Jackson ever be able to admit his feelings for Danny?Will WERES ever be defeated, and the threat of the Union removed?This is the sequel to my storyResurgence of the HuntersThis is the final story in my WERES AU series.





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

Deaton tells him that he needs to rest and allow the remnants of the wolf’s bane to work their way out of his system, but Stiles isn’t listening.  As soon as Deaton has finished his examination of him he’s out of the bed and, slower and less steady than he will admit, is walking down the corridor looking for an empty room, with Parrish following on his tail.

 

“So,” Stiles says turning to face his dad’s deputy, “Now that we’re alone you want to explain your plan to get my pack back?”

“It’s quite simple,” Parrish smiles at him, “I’m going to take you to the Union base in Idaho and hand you over to Mr Morden; the head of The Enslavement Directorate.”

“And just how are you going manage that?” Stiles snorts

“Because you’re going to come willingly, and because I’m WERES remaining agent inside the Alliance…” Parrish stops talking as Stiles starts to lose control, his fangs and claws pushing to come out as he snarls at the man standing in front of him.  “This will probably go a lot quicker and easier if I explain on the road,” Parrish says as Stiles leaps towards him; only to feel a prick against his arm and slump against the deputy as falls into a deep sleep.

 

When he regains consciousness sometime later, he was in a car, in the passenger seat; the seatbelt secured.  He looks frantically out of the window, trying to determine where he is; they are surrounded by trees.

“We’re across the border,” Parrish says from the driver’s seat, his words don’t really surprise Stiles; they were only ten miles from the border anyway, “So, don’t do anything foolish,” the deputy continues, without taking his eyes off the road ahead as he steers the car around the winding road, “There are patrols everywhere, and you don’t want to be picked up and mistaken for some runaway slave-pet.”  Stiles just glares at him.  “So,” Parrish rolls his eyes, “This is what’s going to happen.”  He then explains very clearly what is going to transpire once they arrive, in less than two hours, at their destination.

 

  
  
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Derek slumps to the floor of the cage, as much as the metal bondage he is held in allows; the collar chained the back of the cage, and the metal cuffs around his wrists chained at his back.  He keeps his eyes down, he couldn’t look across at where Isaac is curled into a ball in the cage opposite.  He’d seen the marks on him when they brought him back and had taken Scott.  Kicking and screaming behind his gag when he saw what they had done to Isaac and Jackson.  The anger that it wells up inside Derek from the treatment of his lovers and his pack mates, ready to erupt; if only it could.  He needs to comfort them, but he can’t.

They are each being held in different cages; kept separate from each other and gagged.  They can’t even comfort each other with words; let alone with a touch or caress.

Jackson is sitting defeated against the bars in the cage to his right.  They had returned him to his cage and taken Danny.  No-one knew what was being done to each other.  They only saw the marks and welts that covered skin and the hollow look in their eyes when they were returned to this room and locked back in their cage.

 

They all had heard the WERES staff talking about the alpha that was killed.  And Stiles’s connection to them had weakened since they woke here.  But the one thing Derek knows they are all clinging to, is that their alpha is alive; that the reason Stiles’s presence feels so weak is that he is far away from here and is safe.

 

\--- --- ---

 

Scott is naked, on his knees, and shackled against the wall.  Metal cuffs locked around his ankles and above the knee; a metal bar between each is keeping his legs in place.  His wrists are similarly cuffed behind his back, and the metal collar around his neck is fixed by a short chain to the wall behind him; his body pulled backwards by the position he’s bound in.  The white tile of the floor and wall are cold and hard against his knees and shoulders.

His mouth held open by the silicone tube forced between his teeth, held in place by the black silicone trough, which is firmly secured by the leather straps that are buckled around his head.

 

Not everyone that has urinated in the trough has been careful; several have missed and they sprayed their piss over his face and hair.  Some have pissed so much that it overflowed the trough before he had swallowed it, falling on his chest and running down his body until it pooled under him.

 

Not that he wanted to swallow it; this wasn’t his Master’s piss.

 

No, this made him want to puke; the foul smell of it burning his nose, and the acrid, bitter, taste of it burning over his tongue and down his throat as it poured through the tube gag.

 

He’s not sure how long he’s been here acting as the guards’ urinal.  He’s knows it’s long enough for his own piss to have hit the tiled floor and spread out under his legs.  Scott keeps his eyes closed as he hears the heavy sound of footsteps heading towards him.

 

“Everyone else’s piss not enough for you that you have to piss yourself too?” the sneering sound of Rafe McCall’s voice states.  Scott refuses to think of the man as any relation to him, never mind as his father; it’s not like he considers him his son anyway.

His eyes fly open at the sound of a zipper and he sees the man pull out his uncut cock; the bitter taste of him filling Scott’s mouth as he fills the trough; stopping the flow until the foul liquid has emptied into Scott’s stomach before he allows more to splash into the black silicone.

“Drink it down pet,” Rafe smirks at him, “After all, you like being your Master’s Piss Puppy; don’t you,” surprise must show in Scott’s eyes as he snarls, “Yeah, I saw pictures of that rubber shirt you have, I know what a sick twisted animal now walks around in my son’s body.”  Scott doesn’t know how he could have.  He’s never worn the shirt out of the house, and no-one outside the pack has seen it.

“Yeah,” he continues pissing into the trough and down Scott’s throat, “Parrish told me all about it when he showed me the picture he’d taken on his phone.  Well, by the time we finish retraining you, you’ll know that other dog wasn’t your Master; you’ll know how a real Master treats their slave-pet again.  Real soon.”

 

Scott feels the dread sitting heavy in his gut at his words.

 

\--- --- ---

 

Danny is strapped naked to the bench.  He hates how his cock is fully hard and dripping beneath him.  He hates how he jerks involuntarily every time one of them licks at his ass or cock; how he whines through the O-ring gag in his mouth.  He hates how he shivers when their coarse hair scrapes against his skin.  Hates when they fuck him with their relentless jackhammer thrusting into his ass with no preparation.  Hates how he comes with no stimulation to his cock.

 

He tells himself that it’s only because he’d been locked in the chastity device with no release for so long.

 

He’s not sure how many are in the room with him.  Four or five; maybe six.

 

One of the Doberman’s walks in front of him and licks into his mouth.

 

“Aw, look,” one of the two WERES guards comments from the side where they’re watching him get fucked by the dogs, “One of the slutty bitch’s boyfriends is giving him a kiss.”

Another of the dogs mounts him, their paws scratching his side as they catch his hips and thrust until their hot cock finds its mark.  Danny tries not to look in the mirrors they have set up, but he can’t stop himself.  It’s one of the German Shepherds that is now humping away at his thoroughly fucked hole.  The other dog continuing to lick inside his mouth.  He closes his eyes, fighting to hold back the tears.  Soon the now familiar feel of the dog’s knot pushing against his rim, as the dog thrusts into him, tells him to expect another volley of watery dog come to fill him.  The knot is all too quickly pushing against his sweet spot and he comes over the floor below him as the dog pumps him full of another load.

 

“Look at how much the fucking doggy-fucker loves taking a knot,” the other guard laughs.

 

All Danny can do is close his eyes; one dog still licking inside his mouth, another still coming in his ass, and more waiting their turn to fuck him.

 

  
  
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“I’m sorry,” Deaton is saying to him, but Aiden just stares at his leg, “We had no choice but to remove the leg above the knee…”

“My leg,” Aiden corrects him, “ **Not THE LEG; MY LEG!** ”

“Yes.  I know this is difficult for you…”

“ **Difficult?!** ” Aiden scoffs, his voice loud, near hysterical, “I can’t regrow it.  We may have super healing abilities, but one of the things it doesn’t do is regrow a limb.”

“I am aware of that…”

“ **What the fuck am I supposed to do now?!  Who is going to want to keep a three legged wolf in their pack?!** ”

“Adjusting to amputation is a gradual process.   There is a counsellor you can talk to, to help with the emotional…” Deaton says without any inflection in his voice.

“ **A shrink?  You think I need to talk to a shrink?  I need my leg back!  What use is a werewolf with only one leg?** ”

“Talking to someone who is trained to listen and support may make it easier to understand and cope with your feelings and concerns.”

Aiden just stares at the man.

“I know this is a shock, but you must understand, the wolf’s bane they used is a highly virulent strain; one I haven’t encountered before.  The only way to prevent it spreading and killing you was to remove your leg from above where the bullets struck you.  If we hadn’t you would be dead.”

“Maybe that would have been better…”

“Aiden!” he hears his brother’s shocked voice cry, “You can’t mean that?!”

He remains silent; staring at the stump where the rest of his leg used to be.

 

“I’ll leave this for you to read, when you’re ready,” Deaton says as he places a leaflet on the table beside the bed, and turns and leaves the room.  Aiden reads the title, ‘Rehabilitation after your lower limb amputation’, and grinds his teeth.

“What happened to everyone else?” Aiden asks his brother.

“You know what happened to Shappa,” Ethan starts in reply.

“Yeah, but who else got out, who became Alpha, and did we save any of Alpha Stilinski’s pack?”

“You, me, and Razza.  No-one seems to know who gained Shappa’s alpha power; the council is checking with his relatives,” Ethan informs him.

Aiden knows that is something else to worry about; if he knew who had taken on his late Alpha’s mantle then he’d know his chances of remaining in the pack, but with no clear leader the pack will be unsettled and pack dynamics will be unstable.

“And Stilinski?” he asks.

“He was the only one we got out, but…” Ethan abruptly stops mid-sentence.

“But?” he sharply turns his full attention to his brother.

“He’s missing, along with Deputy Parrish.”

“What do you mean missing?”

“Missing, as in no-one here knows where he is,” Ethan comments, “He was last seen talking to Deputy Parrish, but neither of them were seen leaving the hospital; though, I overheard Deaton talking on his phone with Braeden, telling her that security footage showed what looked like Parrish driving out of the parking lot with Stilinski in the passenger seat.  No-one knows where they were heading.”

 

  
  
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“Where the hell is my son?!”

Braeden and Claudia look up from the reports they were pouring over; their attention ripped from the documents by the anger in the sheriff’s voice.

“I got a call from Deaton saying he had been rescued; that he was resting and now… now… now I’m seeing video footage of him being driven out of the hospital parking lot by Parrish?  What the fuck is going on?”  The anger in his voice still there, but, Braeden now realises, it is tempered by his confusion and fear.

“We don’t have all the facts,” Claudia answers, “Not yet; we’re still gathering information…”

“Gathering information?!  Why aren’t you doing something to get him back?”

“We already sent in the best team I had,” Braeden states, “They went into get Stiles and his pack; only three of them came back, and they only managed to get Stiles out.  We need to know exactly…”

“I need to know where Parrish is taking my son.  I need my son back here, where he should be; safe with…”

“With his mate, and his children,” Claudia finishes, “I need that too, and Stiles needs that too.  And we’re working on it.”

 

“The latest report we have is that Parrish has driven across the border into Idaho,” Claudia says after a long minute of silence; Braeden sees the stunned look on the sheriff’s face turn to defeat and loss.

“We don’t know if Stiles is with him voluntarily or not,” Claudia continues, “He may have decided he needed save his mate, and the rest of his pack…”

“How could the two of them hope to get into wherever Derek and the rest of his pack are being held when ten trained soldiers couldn’t?” the sheriff asks.

“Or, Stiles may not be with Parrish willingly,” she presses on, and gives information Braeden wouldn’t have chosen to share, “Parrish was our man inside WERES, he fed us information; he’s the reason we knew they were after Stiles.”  Claudia pauses briefly, her gaze flicking to Braeden before returning to the sheriff as she says, “It could be that he was their man inside the Alliance.”

 

  
  
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Laura breathes deeply as she holds Talia close to her chest, the scent of Derek and Stiles that emanates from her only marginally calming; it’s the hand of her mate, Glenn, that allays her worries most, but even that is not enough to dispel the distress she feels.

She looks up as Mason comes into the room and hands a bottle of formula to Allison, and watches as she tries to feed James; the boy restless in her arms as she tries to get him to suckle from the bottle.  He’s too aware of the pack’s emotions and wants his fathers; but they are missing, in the hands of WERES, and that is the cause of the tension everyone is feeling.

“You may as well give up and just cradle him,” she tells the ex-hunter, “He’ll feed when he’s hungry; he’s too restive because of the pack’s emotions just now.”

“He’s not the only one,” Mason grumps as sits on the arm of Allison’s chair.

“I just want to grab my bow and shoot some WERES ass…” Allison complains, stopping mid-sentence, or word, Laura isn’t sure which, “I just feel so useless.  I feel I need to do… something; I just don’t know what.”

“We all do,” Laura replies, “The betas in the basement are probably climbing the walls, or ripping them apart, with the worry over their alpha and pack mates.”  She has serious concerns about how the young betas will react if things go as badly as she expects.  WERES run territories are not conductive to an alpha’s longevity.

“You expect the worst, don’t you?” Allison asks, looking blankly at her; her complexion more pallid than usual.

“I hope and pray for their safe return,” she softly says; side-stepping a direct answer.

 

  
  
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Jacob tries to bury himself in the centre of the bed; in the middle of the remaining pack.  He’s desperately searching for the scent of his alpha, or his alpha’s mate.  Their scent is becoming so faint he can barely catch a trace of it anymore.  A whine is pulled from his throat at the fear of losing it, of losing his alpha and the rest of his and Allison’s pack that are missing.

He doesn’t understand what happened.  They were told that Stiles had been saved; told that he was coming home.  Now he isn’t.

His first thought was that he wouldn’t come home without the others; their alpha would go and fight tooth and claw to bring them all home.  But he isn’t so sure anymore.  The way everyone is behaving around him, he knows something more has happened.  They just aren’t explaining it to him, Boyd, Erica, and Liam.

And that’s not fair.

 

\--- --- ---

 

Boyd pulls the whining wolf back up from under the covers, and wraps and arm around him; holding him tight against him.  He knows how Jacob is feeling.  The same way they all are.  Lost, angry, and scared.

Erica is pressed tightly against his right, small whimpers rushing from her lips as her hand grasps at Jacob’s arm that falls across Boyd’s chest beside her as he melts against his left side.

Only Liam is curled in on himself on the left side of their alpha’s bed; separate from the rest of them.

 

He’s the one that Boyd is most worried about; other than their alpha and missing pack mates.  Boyd knows he himself is the newest wolf and isn’t as in control of his wolf and his instincts.  The strength of the need he feels for the physical contact with his pack, for their scent is strong, and there’s no way he can fight it.  But Liam is fighting it.  He feels him pulling away from them, and he knows that can’t be good.  Not for Liam.  Not for any of them.

 

\--- --- ---

 

Liam pulled himself tighter, making himself smaller; his legs pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them in a vice like grip.  It was the only way he could fight his instincts; the only way to avoid turning around and curling up with Jacob, Erica, and Boyd.  He couldn’t let his instincts take control; that’s how he ended up losing another alpha.

 

The feeling of loss was shredding his control.  He wanted to lash out at everything and everyone.  He didn’t want to feel this way again.  He told Mason that.  He told him that it was too much of a risk to get involved with another pack; that WERES would take it all away.  Now he was being proven right, and it was killing him.

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

The whip falls across his back with a crack and a sting that feels like someone sliced his skin with a sharp blade; an instance of pain that burns as he hears the whoosh of air, the unseen arm pulling the length of the tail through the air to land and break his skin again.

Isaac knows this feeling.  He remembers that there is no point in shouting for them to stop.  The WERES guards told him where they were taking him.  He thought with Stiles as his alpha that he was free of the place; he thought he’d never return.  In the ‘House of Pain’ they enjoy his screams; he doesn’t want to scream for them.

Strung out in the centre of the room, suspended from the ceiling by the silver laced chains cuffed to his wrists, and his legs spread wide by the metal bar cuffed to his ankles with heavy chains bolted to the floor.  His naked body displayed on the mirrors that surround him; every bruise and welt on display.

As the whip continues to land, cutting at his skin, marking his body in red, before the previous lash has healed, all he can do is scream.

 

+---++---++---++---++---+

 

Scott is kneeling on the tiled floor, in the puddle of piss; he’s chained to the wall behind him and another guard is pissing into the trough gag in his mouth.  His hair, face, his body is drenched in the stale piss of the dozens of WERES guards and soldiers that have used him; the urinal of anyone that wants to piss in, or on, a slave-pet.

There are tears running down his cheeks.  But they are not because of the piss he’s been forced to drink, or that is soaking his hair.  It’s because he can hear Isaac screaming.

 

Scott promised he wouldn’t put up a fight, but only as long as they didn’t harm Isaac.

 

They lied to him and he didn’t hear it.

 

They lied to Isaac, and he doesn’t know.  Neither of them could sense the lie.  There was no stutter in their heartbeat.  There was no subtle shift in scent.  There was nothing that gave away the lies from the lips of the WERES guards.

They looked directly into his eyes and lied to him, and his wolf couldn’t tell.

 

Now his mate is in pain and believes he’s alone and far from his pack, and there is nothing he can do to comfort him.  That’s why he is crying; why he can’t stop the tears from falling.

 

+---++---++---++---++---+

 

Jackson is bent at the waist; at ninety degrees.  His head and wrists are locked in the heavy wooden stocks that are at waist height, and his legs are widely spread by the bar cuffed to his ankles.

He’d agreed to ‘retraining as sex-slave’ on the condition that they stopped what they were doing to Danny.

He only allowed them to lock him in the stocks when he heard the sounds from the room they had Danny in quiet down, and the dogs being lead out.

It was when they had sealed the wood around his neck and wrist that he realised it was made of mountain ash.  The minute they had him trapped, he could hear the dogs being lead back to Danny.

 

“Slave pets do not make demands of their Masters,” Rafe McCall sneers at him, “Now, there are several guards who have been denied the company of their wives or girlfriends, and will be more than happy to teach a slave-pet how to please them.”

 

He turns and leaves the room; Jackson can see several of the WERES guards lining up on the other side of the door as the first of them enters.

 

+---++---++---++---++---+

 

Derek knows that the WERES personnel has resorted to playing them off against each other; to make them behave and be obedient.  The ‘new’ kibble formula they forced them to eat has had no effect on them.  When they were not docile and obedient after their ‘meal’ their captors were confounded, which is why they are resorting to more psychological tactics.

 

He is bound, immobile, in the cage.  He’s the only one they haven’t taken to one of the other rooms.  He can feel the distress of his pack mates; suggesting that their tactics are working.  He just wishes he knew what was happening to his pack; or maybe, he thinks, he’s better not knowing.

He tries not to jerk his head at the sound of one of the guards entering the room.  It’s a female soldier, she’s alone and Derek doesn’t recall her coming into the is room before.  She walks directly to the cage he’s locked in, and he can’t help but become anxious at what’s about to happen when the view of the cameras in the room are blocked and can’t see what the woman is doing.  He’s taken aback when a piece of paper his held for him to read.

‘OPERATION HELLFIRE.  TOMORROW @14:00h’

Flames suddenly cover her fingers and the paper burns to ash.

 

“Sargent Carter, what are you doing?” he hears Rafe McCall asking from behind the women.

“Just teasing the pet Sir,” the woman replies.

“Well, don’t,” Rafe scolds her, “Mr Morden specifically stated that the alpha and his mate were to be left alone.”

“Sorry Sir,” the Carter women says, but it sounds insincere to Derek’s ears; Rafe doesn’t seem to notice, “Any idea what’s going to happen to them Sir?  The pets Sir, now that you have them, well, except for the alpha.”

Now that Carter has moved from in front of him, Derek can see Rafe McCall bristle at the reminder Stiles got away.

“I’ve already started a training program for them that I’m sure Mr Morden will approve of,” Rafe smiles at her, “Whittemore and the human will probably be sold to a brothel or to a pornographic studio that specialises in slave-pet and animal films.  Lahey will be sold to the Dallas branch of the House of Pain.  I may consider buying the pet that killed my son for myself.  And, well, Mr Morden seems to want the alpha and its mate for himself.”

Derek can’t hold back the growl he vocalises from behind the gag in his mouth.

 

  
  
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“You seem very confident that you’re going to pull this off,” Stiles glances over at Parrish; the man smirks, never taking his eyes off the road ahead.

“You just spoke to the head of ‘The Enslavement Directorate’; Mr Morden himself,” Parrish replies with a smile, “You think I won’t successfully complete my plan?”

“Why is he so eager to meet me?”

“I don’t know, but my plan is the only way I see you being with your mates again.”

“It’s not like I really have a choice here is it,” Stiles bitches at the man.

“No; we’re almost there.”

 

A few minutes later they are passing a row of single storey buildings on one side and mobile homes on the other, when Parrish turns and drives between the rows of buildings.  There’s a single runway on one side of them, and more single storey buildings.  There are Union soldiers and WERES guards everywhere.

“Come on,” Parrish says as he parks in front of one of the buildings.  Stiles can feel his pack, Derek, Scott, Isaac, Jackson, and Danny.  The blinding emotions from them flood him; feeling lost, helplessness, humiliation, pain and distress.  He can barely supress the urge to shift; the growl slipping out.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Parrish warns him under his breath, “Keep in control; no matter what’s happening to them.”

“That’s not something I’m going to promise you; even if I could.”

“Try,” Parrish huffs, “Remember that here, even though you’re an alpha, they see you as a slave-pet.  And alpha slave-pets are used for experimentation, or destroyed.”

“If Morden is so anxious to meet me, I must be the exception,” Stiles sneers.

“Hopefully; everything depends on that being true.  Now, this way,” Parrish leads him to one of the buildings.

 

As they approach Stiles can hear Rafe McCall’s voice.

“…consider buying the pet that killed my son for myself.  And, well, Mr Morden seems to want the alpha and its mate for himself.”

“Don’t think for one moment I’m going to let that happen,” Stiles snarls at the man, “Scott is mine!  Just like the rest of my pack and my mate are; and no-one is taking them from me.”

He just couldn’t help himself.

“Guards, seize him!” Rafe screams.

“Stand down!” Parrish counters, “No-one touch Alpha Stilinski, or they will answer to me,” turning his attention to Rafe, Parrish continues, “And given the trouble you are already in McCall, you better not have disobeyed any other orders.”

“Where’s the rest of my pack?” Stiles asks.

“Agent McCall sent them for training,” the woman Rafe was talking to when they arrived answers.  Stiles doesn’t hold back the growl building in his throat.

“Morden’s orders were that none of them were to be harmed,” Parrish reprimands Rafe.  Stiles notices the throbbing vein in Rafe McCall’s temple; the man doesn’t like being talked down to.  He hopes Parrish keeps pushing him.

“The orders were that the alpha and its mate were not to be harmed,” Rafe counters.

“Wrong,” Parrish states.  Stiles watches as Parrish steps into Rafe’s personal space, and leans towards him, “He stated that he wanted the alpha; he was the only one he stated be taken, and that he was not to be mistreated or harmed.  He finished by stating or there will be hell to pay.  However, he agreed to MY plan to take the alpha and his mate, on the condition that those taken were to not to mistreated or harmed.”

“Rafe, my boy, I think you fucked up,” Stiles smirks, enjoying watching the colour drain from the man’s face.

“The alpha and his mate, pets your plan would have captured, are unharmed,” Rafe spits out.

“What about the rest of my pack,” Stiles stalks towards him, “Aren’t they covered by the condition Morden set about ‘those taken’ not being mistreated or harmed.”

“Yes, they are,” Parrish practically snarls in McCall’s face.

“I doubt any true American would consider their treatment as being mistreatment of a slave-pet.”

“Where are they?” Parrish asks as Stiles rushes at the excuse for a man; only to find Parrish holding him back.  Parrish has one arm outstretched behind him, his hand pressed against Stiles’s chest and it’s enough to stop him in his tracks.

“I suggest you tell us,” Parrish continues, adding with a smile, “Or, I’ll let the young alpha here rip your throat out, with his teeth; like he wants to.”

 

  
  
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Derek watches from the cage he is still bound in as Stiles snatches Rafe McCall; his claws digging into the flesh of the man’s neck.

“Where are the rest of my pack?” he snarls through his fangs and his eyes glowing red; fear written across McCall.  The WERES guards don’t seem to know whether to run in fear or shoot his alpha.  Clearly Parrish has a lot of authority within WERES, but the guards must be questioning his loyalty.

“Now, Stiles, I’d rather you left Rafe alive for Morden to deal with when he arrives tomorrow,” Parrish tuts at Stiles; the guards seem to stand a little straighter at the mention of the CEO of TED’s name.

“Morden isn’t coming here,” Rafe gasps from under Stiles chocking hold, “Why would he come this close to the border, into what is virtually the middle of a battlefield?”

“He seemed rather eager to meet me when we talked earlier,” Stiles replies, surprising not only Derek, but the guards too.

“And he’s coming here, because someone, Rafe, botched the operation, otherwise I would have had Stiles in our complex in Utah by now; wouldn’t I,” Parrish glowers at the man.  McCall seems to momentarily shrink away from the deputy, or whatever Parrish actually is, and closer to Stiles.

“I don’t understand,” Rafe stammers, looking at Stiles, “If you know Morden is coming here, and that he,” he nods his head, as far as Stiles’s grip allows, in Parrish’s direction, “Is a WERES agent, why are you here?”

“I’m not leaving without my pack, all of them,” Stiles cheerfully supplies, setting the guards on edge again.

“And we are going to put all of them in one room; making it easier to ensure they don’t escape,” Parrish supplies, “Just like we are going to do with you, and those that followed your orders instead of mine,” he sternly continues, “Making sure all of you are here to meet Morden when he arrives around lunchtime tomorrow.”

Rafe McCall and some of the guards almost whimper in fear.

“So, one last time,” Parrish snarls, “Tell Stiles which building you have his pack in, or I will unleash hellfire on your ass!”

Derek couldn’t swear to it; but he’s sure Sargent Carter winked at him just as Parrish threatened McCall.

 

  
  
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Jackson’s clenched his fists, preparing himself for the next WERES guard to come through the door and rape him.  He tries to steady his breathing as he sees the door swing open, but is unprepared for the sight of the guard practically trips over his own feet as he’s shoved, with some force, from behind.

He’s elated and fearful at seeing Stiles behind the guard, as his alpha’s face darkens; Stiles turns from him to the guard and growls.

“I’m pretty sure my brother prefers to top,” Stiles snarls at the WERES guard, “Now, get him out of that contraption.”

He’s grateful when the weight of the mountain ash lifts from his wrists and neck, and he’s able to stand upright again.

Stiles soon has him in a hug, and he willingly relaxes into his alpha’s grip and scenting.

“We’re not free yet,” Stiles whispers at his ear; the words set him on edge briefly, but he’s sure his brother must have a plan.

 

+---++---++---++---++---+

 

Danny tries to drown out the sound of the dogs around him, growling and snarling at each other as they via for dominance.  He feels the brush of fur and the weight settle on his back as another dog jumps up and prepares to mount him.

He hears the door swing open and a roar reverberates off the walls; the dogs around him fall silent and the one on his back drops to the floor; he assumes cowering with the others.

 

“Hey, you can’t be in here,” shouts one of the guards.

Danny turns his head as much as he can to see a naked Jackson punch the guard in the face; the man stumbles backwards, his face dripping blood where his nose is clearly broken, and he falls on his ass.

“Get him off the breeding bench,” Stiles is ordering the other.

“Why you…” the guard on the floor starts as he staggers to his feet.

“I’d shut up if I were you,” the man behind Stiles interrupts him, flashing a badge he continues, “I have full command of this base until Mr Morden arrives tomorrow; an order from myself or Alpha Stilinski is to be follow as if from Mr Morden himself.”

“Yes, Sir, Agent Parrish, Sir,” the guard Jackson didn’t punch scrambles to obey.

 

As Danny collapses into Jackson’s arms he blushes at the feel of dog come sliding down his thighs.

 

+---++---++---++---++---+

 

The sound of screaming has Stiles bursting through the door; the scene before him making his blood boil.  Isaac is chained outstretched in the centre of the room, mirrors lining every wall, and the blood coated whip is being drawn back after striking the delta wolf.

The alpha cannot control his rage and he rushes the WERES guard holding the whip, snatching it from their hand and proceeds to punch the man with all his strength.

 

He’s not sure how long he’s been hitting the guard; the rush of blood in his ears slowly quieting that he only now hears his mate, or is even aware of Derek’s hand on his shoulder.

“Stiles, Isaac needs you,” Derek’s words filter through and he turns his attention to from the bloody mess of the guard’s face to the terrified and cowering Isaac.

 

Stiles sees for the first time just how badly Isaac has been beaten, his back and legs as marked by scars and welts as when he was brought to him as his ‘third slave-pet’; the old wounds that had healed, replaced by new bloody lines.  He catches the scent of aconite and realises that the whip being used has been soaked in it; to slow down the healing.

 

He moves towards him and can hear the softly repeated words, “I’m sorry,” being said over and over.  He gently pulls Isaac against him, it still makes the delta wolf whimper in pain, and scents his neck and cheek.

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for,” he tells him, and Isaac presses his nose against his neck, drawing in his scent as he clings to Stiles like a lifeline.  Stiles turns to Parrish, “Get a doctor to clean and check these wounds, I want them healing like they should be on a werewolf.  And when I say doctor, I mean a doctor; not a WERES veterinarian, a proper doctor.”

“I don’t know that a human doctor would know…” Parrish starts to respond.

“Well find one who does; now,” Stiles snaps at him, and turns his attention back to Isaac, “Let’s find your mate.”

 

+---++---++---++---++---+

 

Scott is stunned as the drunk guard pissing on him is suddenly turning away from him and then tumbling back on his ass, lying flat on his back and still pissing; now over himself.  He’s out cold from the single punch that his alpha threw, and connected with the man’s jaw.

He’s just as suddenly embarrassed that Jackson and Stiles, found him chained up in this state; covered in, and filled, with the piss of the guards and soldiers that used him as a urinal.

 

“Don’t worry, we’ll get this stuff off you,” Stiles is saying to him as he unbuckles the harness holding the piss gag in his mouth.  Scott can’t hold the tears back any longer.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Stiles asks, the concern evident in his eyes.

“I failed him,” he sobs, wanting to grab his alpha and hold him close, but not wanting to when he doesn’t smell like pack, when he is covered in the stench of the stale piss coating him, “And you.  I couldn’t protect my mate, I didn’t… they lied to me and I never knew…”

“That makes two of us,” Jackson, standing just behind Stiles, whispers; Scott turns his head up to look at him, Jackson meeting his gaze as he continues, “I didn’t notice they lied either.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Stiles tells them, “They are trained to be able to lie to a werewolf, or any other therianthrope; it’s not your fault.”

“But they… they’re torturing Isaac,” Scott gasps out as he starts to panic at thoughts of the screams he’s heard, “I only… I only didn’t fight back when they chained me because they said they’d stop…” he starts to shift to his wolf and bolts up, only held back by Stiles gripping his shoulders, “They’ve got Isaac, I’ve got…”

“Isaac is being looked at by a doctor, a real doctor,” Stiles says, catching Scott’s eyes and letting his alpha red bleed into his own to subdue his beta, “He’s with Derek, and Danny; Isaac and Danny are both being checked by the doctor.  I asked Parrish to make sure it was a real doctor,” Stiles repeats himself trying to calm Scott down, “Not a WERES veterinarian.”

“He–Mene Mox Mox is a real doctor,” Parrish states, standing in the doorway.

“A real doctor,” Scott parrots, his eye colour shifting back.

“Yes, Yellow Wolf said he graduated from Boston University School of Medicine,” Stiles smiles at him, “So, come on; let’s go get you cleaned up and see what accommodation Parrish has arranged for us.”

 

Scott stands up from the tiled floor, and the three of them start towards the door.

“We can go via the medical room,” Parrish says, “Pick up the rest of your pack and Sargent Carter can show you to the room.  Sorry, but it’s one bed, hope you don’t mind, but a least the room has a connecting bathroom and shower.”

 

  
  
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“What’s your plan to get us out of here?” Jackson asks, low enough not to be overheard by the non-wolf standing guard outside the room they have been taken to.

“I don’t have one,” Stiles truthfully answers him, though his focus is in the bed; where Danny is curled in on himself, precariously close to the edge, and Isaac is wrapped himself around Scott like an octopus.

“Then you should have left us here,” Derek barely whispers, his voice distant and resigned.

“I’d never do that,” Stiles hisses, “I…”

“You would have been safe, and with our children…”

“Right now, they are safe with their aunt, grandparents, and the rest of our pack,” Stiles cuts him off, adding in the barest whisper “And we will all be with them, soon.”

“How?” Jackson asks, “If you don’t have a plan, just how are we all going to escape from inside the Union, whichever territory we are in.”

“We’ll find out tomorrow,” Stiles smiles at him, “After the head of WERES, Mr Morden himself, arrives.”

 

Jackson and Derek share a look that suggests they think their alpha has lost his mind.

 

  
  
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“What the hell is going on?” Rafe strides into the office as he roars at Parrish.

Jordan keeps flicking through the file he was reading sitting at the desk; he’d been expecting the man to blow up at some point, had been surprised that he had held kept control this long, and was curious at what had finally set him off.

“Care to elaborate on **exactly** what it is you’re whining about?” he offhandedly asks.  He hides the smirk that threatens to erupt when he sees the vein throbbing in the older man’s temple; he knows he’s getting to him when that happens.

“Why are those animals being given free…”

“They aren’t; there are guards posted outside the door of the room they are in, there are no windows in the room for them to escape through, and, seriously,” he looks up at the man, taking his gaze from the papers in front of him, “How the hell are they going to get anywhere?  This is a base controlled by the Union, by WERES; do you think that six Alliance citizens, five of whom are naked, are going to go unnoticed?”

McCall visibly deflates a little at the dressing down; so, Jordan keeps pushing.

“Besides, I am following Mr Morden’s orders,” he smiles at the other Agent, “You should try it sometime; maybe then you wouldn’t land yourself in so much trouble.”

“Well,” Rafe sneers at him, “We only have your word for that!”

“What do you mean?”

“Shortly after you arrived with the alpha pet something happened to the communications systems.  No one is able to make contact in or out of the base,” Rafe states, “No-one is sure exactly when contact was lost, but I haven’t been able to confirm your supposed orders…”

“I’d suggest,” Jordan stands and walks around the desk to push into Rafe’s personal space, “That instead of questioning the validity of my orders, you fix the communications systems before tomorrow morning.  We don’t want Mr Morden’s helicopter arriving unexpectedly.  Do we?”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ###  Excerpt from Chapter-03
> 
>   
>   
>  “We have word that they are at the airport in Nezperce, Idaho,” Braeden is informing the Stilinski’s; both Alpha Claudia and the sheriff.  
> “And…?” John Stilinski grinds out.  
> “They are expecting Morden himself there this afternoon. We don’t have time to mount another surgical strike, …”  
> “Then we launch a full scale attack on their base; it’s only a two hour drive across the border from…” Claudia begins to demand.  
> “I already had my plan for an offensive from Pullman into Idaho rejected by the Council,” Braeden informs them, “I’m sor…”  
> “It’s my son,” the alpha cries, “IT’S MY SON, HIS MATE, HIS PACK!”  
>   
>   
> 
> 
> +---++---++---++---++---++---++---++---++---++---++---++---+
> 
>   
>   
>   
> The pack hears it the same time that Stiles does; he can tell from their reaction, or they might just be reacting to him. Even Danny picks up on the sudden stillness of the wolves he’s lying amongst, then he must hear it too, as his head turns to the sound of the helicopter coming in to land.  
> Mr Morden has arrived.  
>   
> There are twelve guards ‘escorting’ them to the meeting with Morden. Stiles insisted that his pack was present. They are in pairs, with the guards surrounding them. As they enter the large room they can hear Parrish talking.  
> “I’m sorry that we are not totally prepared; Agent McCall informed me yesterday evening of an issue with the communications, and he has not yet been able to resolve it,” Parrish is explaining to the man sitting in the large leather chair. He’s stroking between the ears of the naked catboy at his feet. The catboy’s tail flicking from side to side in annoyance. Though the naked werewolf kneeling beside the catboy looks sullen. Stiles isn’t sure if it’s due to not receiving attention or if it’s the weight of the chains running from the piercings through his nipples to the piercings on each of the lips of his outer labia.  
> He recognises the werewolf. He’s the one that assassinated President Palin.  
>   
> 


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

 

Stiles woke to the feeling of the press of bodies against him.  His pack, at least those being held here with him, were all closely huddled; Derek and Isaac holding him tightly on either side, then Scott and Jackson, practically on top of them as they stretched in to brush their fingers over their alpha.  Danny is rolled on to his side, at the edge of the bed; away from them.  The gap between Jackson and him isn’t much, the bed isn’t that big – even though it’s two doubles pushed together – but, he thinks, it’s telling of Danny’s emotional state.  He’s sure they’ll all need therapy when they get home; if they get home.

 

For now, he needs to deal with the immediate problems.

  * His wolves don’t have any clothes, nor does his slave, they were all kidnapped in the middle of the night when they were in bed, naked and asleep; he wants all of them clothed here, including Danny
  * They need food; real food, not the kibble crap
  * His submissives and his slave are missing their collars; he wants them back and around their neck where they belong
  * He needs to get out of the bed without waking the others; his bladder is about ready to burst



“Then get out of bed before you drench us all,” Jackson murmurs, still half-asleep, “Not even Scott would want your piss on him or in him right now.”

“You guys are awake.  Did I say that aloud?” Stiles frowns in bewilderment, “I thought I was just talking in my head.” 

“No, you were talking out loud,” Derek confirms.

“And I think they destroyed our collars when they took them off us,” Scott sullenly adds.

“Okay,” Stiles states, “Well, we’re not going to have our normal morning rituals here,” he’s not sure that there are cameras recording them, but he’s not taking the chance of giving the WERES personnel anything, “So, we’ll get showered in pairs,” he hopes the shower is big enough, “Each person washes the one they’re showering with.  Derek and I will go first, then Scott and Isaac, leaving Danny and you last,” he says turning to Jackson.

“Whatever,” Jackson huffs from under the cover.

Stiles gets up and heads to the door of their little bathroom.

“Come on,” he calls to Derek over his shoulder.

 

“This some plan to save time for some reason?” Derek asks when they are in the cramped confines of the shower, with the lukewarm water merely drizzling on them from the showerhead.

“No,” Stile smiles at him, “I just want to spend a few minutes with my mate, and give him some much needed comfort.  And it will give Isaac and Scott, and Jackson and Danny the same,” he continues, running his fingers through Derek’s hair.

“I missed you,” Derek sadly smiles at him, “But I still wish you weren’t here.”

“I love you too,” Stiles replies, kissing him, and trying to put all his feelings into the kiss, “And there’s no way I wasn’t coming to you, and my pack, back.”

Stiles drops to his knees on the floor of the shower stall, and takes Derek’s still flaccid cock in his mouth.

 

“Stiles?!” Derek gasps at the moist hotness surrounding his lengthening shaft, as Stiles hands cup is ass and pull his hips forward.  He gasps when one of Stiles hands travels further and he feels the single finger teasing at the rim of his puckered hole.  It’s enough to start him self-lubricating, and his mate’s finger slides inside him, searching along his inner walls.  The vacuum surrounding his cock as brought him to fullness and Stiles’s head bobs back and forth along his shaft; one finger becomes two, then three, as they stretch and prod inside.  The sensations of the tongue swirling around the crown of his cock, and the fingers stimulating his prostate, is too much for him to hold back.  His head is thrown against the shower wall as he roars his release.

Once his vision clears and he catches his breath, he’s faced with Stiles smirking at him.

“Still wish I wasn’t here?” Stiles grins at him.

Derek’s only answer is to take his mate’s mouth in a brazen kiss.

 

“Well,” Stiles huffs as he looks at his clothes piled on the floor, “It’s not the first time I’ve worn the same clothes two days in a row.”

Once he’s dressed and Scott and Isaac are in the shower, he heads to the main door of the room.  It’s locked, from the outside, so he knocks, loudly, until one of the guards outside open.

“Okay, so I want my property returned, that’s the collars that were removed from my pack members, and I want clothes for all of my pack to wear, and I want breakfast; hash browns, pancakes, maple syrup, eggs, bacon, sausage, and beans for six.  And remember that’s six werewolves, so, you’ll need larger portions,” he demands without giving either guard time to respond.

The guards both laugh, and move to close the door.  He jams it open with his foot.

“You think I’m joking?  Sorry, but there’s no way I’m meeting with Mr Morden on an empty stomach, and there’s no way my pack are being left naked for you to leer at, and there’s no way you will be making us leave this room to meet with Morden when my pack are naked,” he snarls at them.  They pale as he lets the red bleed into his eyes.

“Don’t worry,” Sargent Carter’s voice carries from just out of Stiles’s sightline, “I have a note of your request and will pass it along to Agent Parrish.  Mr Morden is expected by early afternoon,” she adds.  The guards at the door turning a little pale.

 

Stiles pulls his foot back inside, and the door swiftly closes.

 

  
**♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦ ∞ ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦**  


 

“We have word that they are at the airport in Nezperce, Idaho,” Braeden is informing the Stilinski’s; both Alpha Claudia and the sheriff.

“And…?” John Stilinski grinds out.

“They are expecting Morden himself there this afternoon.  We don’t have time to mount another surgical strike, …”

“Then we launch a full scale attack on their base; it’s only a two hour drive across the border from…” Claudia begins to demand.

“I already had my plan for an offensive from Pullman into Idaho rejected by the Council,” Braeden informs them, “I’m sor…”

“It’s my son,” the alpha cries, “ **IT’S MY SON, HIS MATE, HIS PACK!** ” 

“There has to be something we can do,” John Stilinski states, his arm around his wife’s shoulder, “We can’t… we can’t leave our son in… in their hands.”

“I’m sorry, there’s nothing I can do,” Braeden looks to the ground, unable to meet their eyes, “The council have tied my hands on the matter.  They don’t want to risk a full-scale war with the United States; especially if we could be painted as the aggressor.”

“They invaded us first?!” John explodes, “They had armed helicopters come across the border and…”

“No, they didn’t,” Braeden stops his rant mid flow.

“So, just how did one of the Union’s combat helicopters fly across several states to get to Seattle?” Claudia asks Braeden, “And they are not the aggressor?”

“It didn’t,” she replies, “It was always in Washington; less than a hundred miles from Seattle.  That’s why it wasn’t picked up sooner and they were able to attack the hotel before we had scrambled our troops.  The attack on Idaho was planned to divert our attention to the borders, but they have had a fifth column inside the Republic from day one.”

“What?” the Stilinski’s both exclaim.

“That’s what the Council wants me to concentrate on, exposing the fifth column; not saving Stiles and his pack.”

 

  
**♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦ ∞ ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦**  


 

“They remove us from the council sessions on this because we’re too emotionally involved, and they… they turn into robots and decide the fate of Stiles, Derek, and their pack based on a cost-benefit analysis.  Seriously?!  They consider it’s in the Alliance’s best interest to let an alpha, two betas, two deltas, and a human suffer at the hands of the Union?”

Boyd can’t believe what he is hearing; sure, he’s only hearing Laura Hale’s side of the conversation, but he knows she is talking to Stiles’s mom.  And the Alliance Council has decided not to rescue his alpha, his mate, and the rest of his pack.

He silently rushes back down into the den.

 

“What’s wrong?” Erica asks as soon as he walks into the room.  The rest of the pack turn to look at him; Lydia and Allison too.

“They’re not going back to get Stiles and the rest of the pack,” his voice sounds hollow, even to his own ears, “They’re leaving them in WERES hands.”

“They can’t!” Jacob cries, “Ally, no, it’s not true?” he begs.

“Jay…” her reply halted by the sound of shattering glass; everyone turns to see a wolfed-out Liam and the remains of the now broken television, the frame hanging on the wall, the screen scattered across the floor.

Liam flees from the room as the sound of two babies crying comes from the bedroom.

 

Erica and Allison go to try and calm Talia and James; they are holding the babies, gently rocking them, as they re-enter the room.

“There must be something that can be done?” Allison wonders aloud.

“It’s not as if we could mount a rescue ourselves,” Erica says, “But I can’t believe the Alliance is not doing anything!”

“Allison, doesn’t your father still have contacts in the hunter community?” Lydia half-asks, “Couldn’t he…”

“See if they could save a werewolf pack?” Allison questions her friend, “I’m not sure how many hunters would help.”

“I’m not sure how many hunters I would trust to help,” Boyd says, adding, “No offence.”

“None taken; I agree with you,” Allison replies.

“Yes, because doing absolutely nothing and making no effort whatsoever is such a better option.” Lydia quips, before continuing, “Stiles still owns thirty percent of Argent Holdings Limited, is there any way that the company could intervene?”

 

No-one has an answer.  No-one knows how much time they have to save their alpha and their pack mates.

 

  
**♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦ ∞ ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦**  


 

Aiden scowls at his brother.  He shouldn’t be siding with Deaton and against him.

“Doctor Lightman will drop into your room, here, tomorrow around three-fifteen,” Deaton continues, and Aiden just wants him to shut up, “To talk…”

“ **I.  Don’t.  Want.  To.  Talk.** ”  He shouts, “I don’t care if the shrink turns up or not.”

“You need to talk to the doctor, so they can…” Ethan backs Deaton up.

“ **I.  Don’t.  Need.  To.  I.  Don’t…** ”

“ **Shut up Aiden** ,” Ethan snaps at him, “Lightman will be here, you either talk to him or you don’t; your choice.  But I think you should at least listen to the man.”

“What?  Some human is going to help me accept that I’m now a liability to any pack that feels inclined to accept me, that I’m still worth something.”

“Dr Lightman is a werewolf,” Deaton says matter-of-factly.

“Whatever,” Aiden snorts, to hide his irritation at losing the point.

“I’ll leave you two to talk,” Deaton says to both twins as he turns and leaves.

 

“There’s still no word on where Shappa’s alpha power went,” Ethan informs him, “Some people think that it was lost.”

“How?” Aiden asks, but his brother just shrugs in response, “That doesn’t make any sense.  It should have gone somewhere.”

“Maybe it has something to do with the strain of wolf’s bane they were using,” Ethan suggests; the idea chilling Aiden, and doing nothing to calm is surly mood.

“What about Stilinski and his pack?” he asks Ethan; changing the topic to something other than their current omega status.  His brother initially seems reluctant to talk, which only suggests to Aiden that the alpha’s situation is worse than their own.

“I don’t…”

“Ethan?!”

“I overheard Deaton talking earlier,” he finally confides, “Apparently, Parrish was a WERES agent, and he’s taken Stiles back into Union territory to hand him over to Morden.  Derek, Jackson, Scott, Isaac, and Danny are all in WERES hands, and Morden is supposed to have some special interest in them; or Stiles at least.”

“Fuck!”

 

  
**♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦ ∞ ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦**  


 

Parrish is in the main office, with Sargent Carter and He–Mene Mox Mox, discussing Isaac’s and Danny’s health when Rafe McCall barges in.

“This is becoming a habit with you isn’t Rafe,” Parrish quips.

“I want to know…”

“What you want isn’t, really, important right now,” he smiles at the older man; Carter and Yellow Wolf, both looking uncomfortable in the tension.

“The hell it isn’t!” McCall shouts, “I want answers now.”

 

Parrish grinds his teeth, clearly pissed at the interruption.

“Carter, check on the preparations for Morden’s arrival, make sure everything is ready,” he says to the Sargent.

“Yes, Sir,” she replies.

“Doctor,” he says turning to the man, “Have a report ready on Lahey’s and Mahealani’s injuries and the treatment they received for them due to Agent McCall’s orders.  I want it ready before Morden arrives.”

“Of course,” Yellow Wolf responds.

The Sargent and the doctor bother rise and leave.

“Now,” Parrish sits back in his chair and scowls at the man, “What have you got stuck up your ass this time?”

McCall looks like he wants to call him out on the way he’s talking to him, briefly.  Then he looks to the floor like he’s trying to calm himself, but Parrish recognises the move; he’s seen it before every time he rode rough shot over the man.

 

“Why are the men not being allowed out of the barracks you’ve had them moved to.  The base is working with only…” McCall starts.

“The base is working within minimum guidelines, because, the men that worked with you are still to be investigated in the failed mission,” Parrish talks over him, “Just like I told you yesterday.  The only reason you have been allowed to roam the complex is because you are supposed to be working on getting the communications links back up and working.  Have you done that yet?  Don’t answer I already know you haven’t.”

“That’s unfair,” Rafe states.

“What?  Expecting you to have done what you were supposed to?”

“Those men were only following orders…”

“Something you should learn; it would probably make you a lot happier.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” the older man snarls at him.

“It means,” Parrish says rising from the chair and stalking towards him, “That the fruit doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it?  Like father, like son,” he sees Rafe’s anger rising as he speaks, “That now you can sell yourself into a contract like your son has and…

“Why you fucking…” Rafe rushes at him, only to be winded as Parrish slams him into a wall and holds him there.

“We’ve both seen the report on your son’s computer history from when he was picked up by WERES.  I really don’t think that he got any of those kinks from his mother.  She’s far to vanilla for that, you though; is that why your marriage failed, she wouldn’t dominate you in the bedroom?  Don’t think I didn’t notice how you react to me, and don’t think I haven’t included it in my report back to WERES…”

“No…” McCall vocalises, and Parrish isn’t sure if he’s denying how he reacts or what’s in his reports to WERES.

“Tell me, how many of your kinks does Scott have?  Do you wish it was you that was drinking down all that piss?  Do you wish I’d put you over my knee and spank your bare ass?”

“That… that’s not my son… I’m not… I’m not a slave pet.”

“Oh, come on,” Parrish smirks, “We both know being a slave pet has nothing to do with Scott’s kinks.  They were there before he got bit.  His browser search history showed that.  No, he got his kinks from his daddy, and I bet if I grabbed hold of your crotch right now, we’d find you hard at being manhandled by a man twenty years younger than you.  You like that, don’t you?  Being bossed around and at the mercy of a man so much younger than you.”

Rafe doesn’t say anything, and he’s not even fighting back anymore.  He’s just slumped into Parrish’s hold, pressed against the wall; his cheeks red with embarrassment.  Parrish nudges his knee against the bulge in McCall’s pants crotch.

“Told you,” he smirks at the older man; he grabs his nipples through his shirt, violently.  Rafe doesn’t push him away, he doesn’t pull out of his grip, he just takes the pain that Parrish gives him.  “Now get out there and fix the fucking communications like you are supposed to be, instead of in here getting off on being treated like the slave boy you wish you were,” he yells loudly, twisting and pinching Rafe’s nipples harder and making the man scream.  Parrish is sure anyone outside the office would have heard everything.

 

When the man slinks back out of the office, Parrish returns to making sure everything is in place for Morden’s arrival.

 

  
**♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦ ∞ ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦**  


 

Stiles is lying on the bed, his pack around him in the shirts and pants that Carter brought with the food; the food that was exactly as he’d asked for, though the fact that Scott’s, Isaac’s, and Danny’s collars had been destroyed pissed him off.  The doctor, Yellow Wolf, came with her, to check on Isaac and Danny.

Stiles was surprised that Parrish got a non-human doctor onto the base; he’s sure the WERES guards and Union soldiers are unaware of the doc’s status.  He’s not sure what the doctor is, other than not human; he’s not a werewolf, despite his name.  And he’s certain that the only reason there wasn’t any resistance from the rest of the bases personnel on the doc treating his pack, is that he’s apparently lost his licence to practice due to treating werewolves.  Something that is illegal in the Union States.

He’s also sure that there is something supernatural about Sargent Carter.  When she was here with the doc he caught her comment about “ _Billy’s a wonderful doctor, I don’t even have a scar from when he had to give me stitches_ ”.

 

The pack hears it the same time that Stiles does; he can tell from their reaction, or they might just be reacting to him.  Even Danny picks up on the sudden stillness of the wolves he’s lying amongst, then he must hear it too, as his head turns to the sound of the helicopter coming in to land.

Mr Morden has arrived.

 

There are twelve guards ‘escorting’ them to the meeting with Morden.  Stiles insisted that his pack was present.  They are in pairs, with the guards surrounding them.  As they enter the large room they can hear Parrish talking.

“I’m sorry that we are not totally prepared; Agent McCall informed me yesterday evening of an issue with the communications, and he has not yet been able to resolve it.  Though, as you heard earlier he has now identified that there is some form of jamming.  I would assume that the report on Agent McCall that I sent was the last communication to leave the compound.  We are now reliant on the men that followed his orders to ensure your safety, while those I trust are searching the perimeter for any potential attack and tracking down the location of the device McCall has informed us of.  It may be prudent for you to postpone this meeting and…” Parrish is explaining to the man sitting in the large leather chair, he dismisses Parrish’s suggestion with a shake of his head.  He’s stroking between the ears of the naked catboy at his feet.  The catboy’s tail flicking from side to side in annoyance.  Though the naked werewolf kneeling beside the catboy looks sullen.  Stiles isn’t sure if it’s due to not receiving attention or if it’s the weight of the chains running from the piercings through his nipples to the piercings on each of the lips of his outer labia.

He recognises the werewolf.  He’s the one that assassinated President Palin.

 

As Stiles takes his seat in the leather two-seater couch opposite, Derek sitting beside him, Scott and Isaac kneeling at their feet, and Jackson and Danny standing behind them, he can’t stop himself from commenting.

“So, is castration and penectomy the standard punishment for werewolves that commit capital crimes in the Union?  I was sure I read that the assassination of a President carried a death sentence,” he quips.

“Oh no,” Morden smiles at him, “My pet here didn’t have gender reassignment surgery as a punishment; that was just for my amusement.”

“Big surprise,” Stiles drawls out.  He wonders if Morden plans to complete the surgery and give him breasts as well, though there is no doubt in his mind that the werewolf still identifies as male, despite what Morden has done to him; but right now, the last thing he needs is for his thoughts to go down that rabbit hole, “So, you were anxious to persuade me of the merits of your plan,” he changes the subject; he’d rather get this over with than hear more about the man’s abuse of the werewolf.

“Straight to the point,” Morden smiles at him, and Stiles can’t help but think how it reminds him of Revenge of the Sith era Palpatine, “Well, my boy,” Stiles suddenly expects some sort of ‘No, I am your father’ moment and knows his heart rate just soared in fear, “You are the potential golden goose.  You are the closest we have come to creating the perfect soldier…”

“But you failed,” Stiles points out, “I’m just as much a werewolf as any in my pack, even though I wasn’t at birth, and wasn’t bitten.  And I am an alpha, I gave the gift to Boyd…”

“True,” Morden concedes, “But, there are some differences between your genetic make-up and every other werewolf out there,” and the smile that makes Stiles cringe inside is back, “You see, the computer models at NMC have proven that your children should be the very specimens we sought to create with you…”

Stiles and Derek don’t hold back the growl that erupts from them.

 

“Oh, do calm down,” Morden continues with a chuckle, “I am not talking about the puppies you had with your delta here,” he waves a hand in Derek’s direction, “I’m talking about the children I want you to father with human females we have selected.”

“What?!” Stiles roars, “You want me to have sex with…”

“No, no,” Morden responds in a reassuring tone, “I only expect you to supply a sample of your spermatozoa…” 

“Seriously, if you want my jizz that badly, then I can probably fill one of those jars from a sperm donation bank right now; you wanna watch?” Stiles retorts, “Then me and my pack can be on our way home.”

“On a weekly basis,” Morden continues, “There are further enhancements that NMC need to make to perfect the process, and tests to perfect in identifying which of your ‘little swimmers’ are suitable to create the viable embryos for our purposes.

“Of course, we’ll ensure that you are comfortable.  We have a house picked out, five bedrooms, six bathrooms, over seven thousand square feet, in a two-acre lot, with its own resort style pool and spa…”

“Wait, what?!” Stiles interrupts him, “You expect me…”

“And your pack,” Morden indicates those in the room with him, “You would be free to live as you choose within the grounds, no-one would own you, or any of your pack, there would be staff supplied by us to ensure your safety, and…”

“We’d be your prisoners, living in a gilded cage…”

“You’d be living a life of luxury that few enjoy, especially known werewolves within the United States, and all you’d have to do is make a sperm donation once a week,” Morden smiles at him, “Please consider the offer.  The alternative would displease us both.”

“The alternative I assume is being forcibly held…”

“No,” Morden stops him, “The alternative is we kill all of you, and take whatever is currently available from your balls, freeze them, and use the reduced supply to continue with our work.”

 

“I’ve guess there’s only one thing I can say to your offer,” Stiles sighs, his eyes flicking to the clock on the wall behind Morden’s head, “ **Hellfire**.”

 

All hell breaks loose.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ### Excerpt from Chapter-04
> 
>   
> **Twenty-Four Hours Previously.**  
>   
>  “So,” Parrish rolls his eyes, “This is what’s going to happen. Morden has been desperate to get his hands on you; he has this idea stuck in his head that, despite you now clearly manifesting as an alpha werewolf, given that you were instrumental in the introduction of slavery in the ‘rebel states’, you still are human enough to listen to his proposal.”  
> “The man’s delusional,” Stiles retorts.  
> “Very. I don’t know the specifics as to why he wants you; alive, well, and unharmed, but he does. So, this is how we get your pack, including your mate or mates, depending on how you’re defining your relationship with your collared submissive beta and delta, back.”  
> “I’m just supposed to trust the man who wolf-knapped me from a hospital…”  
> “No, but, given you’ve got wolf powers, you can listen and hear if I lie to you.”  
> “Okay, so…?”  
>   
> 
> 
> +---++---++---++---++---++---++---++---++---++---++---++---+
> 
> “Get a little singed, did we?” Stiles hears Carter ask Parrish as he rounds the corner with Danny and the werewolf.  
> “Well, I’ve never found a pair of flame retardant boxers that were comfortable,” he quips with a smile to her as he pulls on the pants of a Union uniform. The rest of his pack are getting similarly dressed.  
> “Here,” Carter says throwing a uniform to Stiles, Danny, and the pierced wolf, “We need to hurry.”  
> “All of you get down on your knees with your hands up,” Rafe McCall snarls from behind Stiles. The only person to obey him is the pierced wolf; Stiles growls, turning to see Rafe holding an M27 that is pointed at them. Rafe turns his attention to Parrish as he states, “I knew you had to be a traitor, for all your talk and…” before he finishes Danny, who was closest to him, has rushed at grabbed at the rifle. Six shots ring out, and Danny staggers back.  
> “No!” Jackson roars as Danny falls into arms.


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

** Twenty-Four Hours Previously. **

 

“So,” Parrish rolls his eyes, “This is what’s going to happen.  Morden has been desperate to get his hands on you; he has this idea stuck in his head that, despite you now clearly manifesting as an alpha werewolf, given that you were instrumental in the introduction of slavery in the ‘rebel states’, you still are human enough to listen to his proposal.”

“The man’s delusional,” Stiles retorts.

“Very.  I don’t know the specifics as to why he wants you; alive, well, and unharmed, but he does.  So, this is how we get your pack, including your mate or mates, depending on how you’re defining your relationship with your collared submissive beta and delta, back.”

“I’m just supposed to trust the man who wolf-napped me from a hospital…”

“No, but, given you’ve got wolf powers, you can listen and hear if I lie to you.”

“And?”

“Long before WERES even existed, and before the Werewolf Liberation Movement that your mom and Alan Deaton were a part of existed,” Stiles isn’t surprised that Parrish knows about their involvement with the WLM, “There is an organisation that has been the protectors of the supernatural world since before the mundanes ever found out about…” Parrish stops talking as he turns and sees the look on Stiles’s face, his own turning to confusion.

“You’re not human,” Stiles proclaims.

“I never said I was; no-one in the Alliance even asked…”

“But how could you work in the Union, at WERES, if you’re not human?”

“I’m not something they have a test for.  I’m not something they even know exists.”

“What are you?”  Parrish sighs at the question.

“I’m a hellhound,” he answers, “Can I continue now?”

“Wha…” Stiles starts, only to be interrupted.

“If you let me continue, without interrupting, your questions may be answered a lot faster,” at Stiles’s nod, he proceeds.

 

“So, some of the mythology surrounding hellhounds is based in truth.  We aren’t assigned to ‘guard the entrances to the world of the dead’, we guard the supernatural world from the mundane; though maybe not as well as we used to, given the last forty years.  Thankfully, WERES still believes that there is nothing to the mythos.  Anyway, when a bitten werewolf decided to transform on live TV and expose the truth, we tried to cover it up; make people think it was all special effects and make-up.  And it would have worked, if it hadn’t been for Gerard Argent, Luke Johnson, and Andrew Kellerman.  They just had to gain a private meeting at the Senate, and prove that werewolves are real.  And the rest is history.”

“But, where do you and the, I’m assuming, other hellhounds, come in to it?”

“SPECTRE…”

“What?!”

“Supernatural protection agency,” Parrish half explains, before continuing, “Decided that the best course of action was to keep the rest of the supernatural world hidden from the mundane.  If we could help a werewolf family to remain hidden, without risk to any other supernatural, then we would.  Apart from that, the werewolves were on their own.”

“You abandoned an entire species to torture and slavery just because it was…” Stiles starts to snarl at him.

“Hey, the werewolves, well a werewolf, outed themselves…”

“ONE.  One werewolf made a choice,” Stiles reminds him.

“And we tried to cover up THEIR mistake, and while **I** didn’t totally agree with the decision, we had to try and protect the rest of the therianthropes.  If you want to blame anyone then start with the alpha that bit that newsperson against their will and without their consent.”

“None of this tells me how you plan on getting my pack, and me, out of WERES grasp,” Stiles, not willing to concede his point, changes the subject.

“True.  You are the bait to lure Morden to the base.  We kill him and escape…”

“A base full of WERES mercs and Union armed forces?”

“They’ll be a little preoccupied, because we’re not just going to remove the head of The Enslavement Directorate; we’re also going after the supply of the new super strain of aconite that they’ve developed.  The one that killed the team that tried to rescue you and your pack before.  Aiden was lucky to only lose his lower leg; there was no way to save it with that aconite in the tissue and blood stream.  From the evidence we have, any alpha shot in the chest with it will not survive, and, their alpha power will not transfer to their pack; it’s lost.”

 

“I still don’t see how…” Stiles starts to question him.

“Trust me.  I can get you and your pack out of there, and back across the border,” Parrish states; and Stiles can hear that the hellhound believes what he’s saying.

“But why would Morden be stupid enough to come so close to the border?” he asks.

“Because he overestimates his control over the situation.  He trusts that no-one would leak his plan to travel to meet you; the fact that the border is a two-hour drive is irrelevant to him.  As far as he’s concerned no one will ever know he was even here.  He thinks he’ll arrive, convince you to agree to work with him, and be on his way before there is any chance of someone coming to rescue you.  He can’t conceive of the notion that the attack will come from inside the base.”

“So, what do I have to do?”

“Be yourself.  Morden has demanded that you and those of your pack that were taken are unharmed, safe, and treated well.  So, remind everyone of that, and act like it.  Rafe McCall is a problem.  But I’ll deal with him, and tell him what he will believe.  That you’re my prisoner to be handed over to Morden; unharmed.”

“If this doesn’t work…”

“Then we will all be dead.”

 

  
**♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦ ∞ ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦**  


 

** Now **

 

“You’d be living a life of luxury that few enjoy, especially known werewolves within the United States, and all you’d have to do is make a sperm donation once a week,” Morden smiles at him, “Please consider the offer.  The alternative would displease us both.”

“The alternative I assume is being forcibly held…”

“No,” Morden stops him, “The alternative is we kill all of you, and take whatever is currently available from your balls, freeze them, and use the reduced supply to continue with our work.”

 

“I’ve guess there’s only one thing I can say to your offer,” Stiles sighs, his eyes flicking to the clock on the wall behind Morden’s head, “Hellfire.”

 

The words no sooner leave Stiles’s lips and a series of explosions and gunfire can be heard outside.

“What was that?” Morden turns to Parrish, his expression one of confusion and disbelief.

“That would be the aconite facility being destroyed; the chemical explosion burning hot enough to ensure the poison doesn’t escape into the atmosphere as gas, or leave any residue to seep into the soil,” Parrish replies.  Stiles sees the cat at Morden’s feet smirk, and the wolf cower; backing away from the cat, his ‘master’, and Parrish.

“You… but you… there are other sites…” Morden counters.

“Which have also been attacked, and the formula has already been wiped the server and backup sites,” Parrish’s eyes burn a brilliant orange, “We clean up our mistakes; this one has just taken a little longer to get to.”

“What are you?” Morden asks, as Parrish stands and flames begin to roll over every part of his body, burning the clothes from his flesh.  Parrish smiles, his mouth open revealing his fangs.  “Hellhound!” Morden whispers, finally realising the significance of the name Parrish took.

 

Morden tries to bolt for the door; the cat at his feet leaping up and slicing his razor-sharp claws across the man’s chest, making him stagger, backing away from the cat.  He looks like he can’t believe his ‘pet’ attacked him.  He looks to the Lycan, expecting it to protect him; but the naked, pierced, and chained wolf is cowering in the corner, his eyes fearfully looking past Morden.  He turns in time to see Parrish reach out a burning hand and grasp him around the throat.

“ **No!** ” Morden cries in agony, before his screams are swallowed by the flames.

 

The building around them is burning; along with Morden’s charred body on the floor.

“Burn in hell, fucker,” the cat spits at Morden’s corpse.  Only the werewolf, still trying to hide in the corner, let’s out a whine of loss.

“Come on, we need to move,” Parrish states, “We need to get to the truck, and get as far from here as possible.”

“We can’t leave him,” Stiles states, when he notices that everyone except Morden’s werewolf has moved towards the door.

He walks over to the beta, and brings every ounce of his alpha power to the fore.  With his eyes red, and his claws and fangs extended he roars at the cowering man; demanding his submission.  It shouldn’t work, at least not as well as it does; the kibble effect should have tied the werewolf to Morden, but he bares his neck in submission to Stiles’s roar.

“Come with us, follow me,” Stiles orders him.  And he does.

 

  
**♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦ ∞ ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦**  


 

When they exit the building, they finally see the extent of the battle taking place.  There are coyotes, mountain lions, lynxes, and bears; at least therianthrope versions of them.  And all are fighting Union soldiers.  The gunfire and explosions are sounding all around the base,

One of the coyotes bounds towards them, its features shifting until standing naked before them is the doctor, Yellow Wolf.

“Quickly, this way; Carter has the truck ready and a change of clothes,” he informs them, quickly running ahead between two of the buildings.  Parrish and the pack take after him, with Stiles, the pierced werewolf, and Danny bring up the rear.

“The prisoners are escaping,” Stiles hears called from behind them, and shots ring out, the bullets flying past them, before he hears a thunderous roar and turns to see the gunmen being taken down by a bear and two mountain lions.

 

“Get a little singed, did we?” Stiles hears Carter ask a naked Parrish as he rounds the corner with Danny and the werewolf.

“Well, I’ve never found a pair of flame retardant boxers that were comfortable,” he quips with a smile to her as he pulls on the pants of a Union uniform.  The rest of his pack are getting similarly dressed.

“Here,” Carter says throwing a uniform to Stiles, Danny, and the pierced wolf, “We need to hurry.”

“All of you get down on your knees with your hands up,” Rafe McCall snarls from behind Stiles.  The only person to obey him is the pierced wolf; Stiles growls, turning to see Rafe holding an M27 that is pointed at them.  Rafe turns his attention to Parrish as he states, “I knew you had to be a traitor, for all your talk and…” before he finishes Danny, who was closest to him, acts on instinct and rushes at Rafe grabbing at the rifle.  Six shots ring out, and Danny staggers back.

“No!” Jackson roars, bolting forward, and Danny falls into arms.

Stiles has Rafe on the ground, his claws digging into the skin from the tight grasp he has around his neck.

“Get him into the back of the truck,” Parrish is commanding the rest of the pack, “Doc, do something to stop the bleeding.  Stiles, see to your pack; leave this asshole to me.”

 

“I shouldn’t have been so stupid,” Danny slurs as Stiles climbs into the back of the truck, pulling the pierced wolf with him; he knows he should find out the guy’s name, but now his attention is on his pack.  “All you werewolves around me and I go for the guy with the gun.”

“Don’t… I’m here, I’m here…” Jackson’s voice breaks as he cradles Danny’s head.  The cat is passing something to the doctor, who is cleaning and patching the wound.

“You’re lucky, only one hit you,” Yellow Wolf says to Danny.

There’s a thump as an unconscious and naked Rafe McCall lands in the bed of the truck beside them.

“What the hell?!” Stiles growls.

“We’re taking him back to the Republic with us; to stand trial for kidnapping,” Parrish smirks, “Carter, get us out of here.”

The truck starts moving.

“And the part where he’s naked?” Stiles asks.

“Well, we are all in uniform.  We would be transporting at least one slave-pet,” Parrish grins.

“Stiles, you can give Danny the bite,” Jackson states, his attention all on the human in his arms.

“No,” Danny objects.

“Doc?” Stiles asks Yellow Wolf.

“I don’t think he’s in immediate danger, but we need to get somewhere quickly to allow me to examine my patient more thoroughly,” Yellow Wolf states; his tone doesn’t ease the packs worry.

“Fine.  We’ll decide after you’ve examined him,” Stiles states; though everyone except Danny picks up on the tension in his voice.

“Carter, head up along sixty-two, then take a right onto Livengood, then a left on Eastman; we should be there in about twenty minutes.  We need to get under cover and wait for darkness to make our move for the border.  While we’re there, we can try to contact Alliance Security, and the doc can check Danny’s wounds more thoroughly.”

 

With the chaos around them, the Union and WERES forces being overrun by the supernatural, they are huddled in the covered truck as it makes its way out of the base.  Hope and fear both equally flowing through the pack.

 

  
**♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦ ∞ ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦**  


 

“We’re going to have to get as close to the border, dump the truck, and sneak across on foot, in the dark,” Stiles overhears Carter remind Parrish, “Every road out of here is going to have a check point we won’t get past all of them.”

“I know,” he calmly states.

“There’s sixty miles between here and the border.  So, how do we do that with one seriously wounded human, and one naked WERES agent who won’t co-operate and come quietly?” she presses as he continues to operate the radio, “You can’t keep McCall unconscious…”

“We just need to find the route with the least checkpoints to pass before we can make it on foot back into Alliance territory.  I won’t need to keep McCall unconscious.  He’ll be an obedient little mundane…”

“You shouldn’t refer to them as…”

“I know,” he huffs at her, “But some of them, like McCall…” before he finishes his sentence the doctor joins them; making him fall silent.

“I’ve done all I can, but I don’t have enough light or the right equipment to know if it’s enough; and, with the scent of blood in the truck I can’t tell if I’ve stopped the bleeding or merely slowed it down.  We need to get him to a hospital.”

“Overwatch; barghest, phoenix and timber wolf plus nine heading to the Grey Havens.  Moscow Sierra thirty-five.  Assistance required.  Phoenix over,” Carter suddenly speaks into the radio mike.

“Phoenix; message received.  Light on the water, November white bird hill.  Overwatch over and out,” comes the reply.

 

He watches as Parrish starts pouring over a map.

“Okay, here,” he hears him say to Carter as he points to locations on the map, “Clearwater River, north of Whitebird Hill.  So, we need to head to Joseph…”

“We’ll need to pass through a checkpoint at Lapwai,” Carter points out.

“Yes, hopefully…” he’s cut off by screaming from the truck.

 

“Get your filthy hands off me!” Rafe is roaring at Derek, who is restraining him.  Scott, has put himself between his dad and Isaac, both of them scowling at the naked agent.  Jackson is still sitting on the bed of the truck, with Danny’s head resting in his lap; his fingers combing through the human’s hair.  The cat is hissing at Rafe McCall, with the other werewolf is sitting still with his eyes to the floor.

“Rafe, shut the fuck up,” Parrish admonishes the man, jumping in to the truck he pulls a box from below the seats; from inside the box he pulls out a metal ‘O’ gag and a rubber ball gag.

“You can’t…” Rafe protests.

“Yes, I can,” Parrish assures him, “And you have five seconds to choose which, or I will; the ball that will muffle all your screams of protest or the ‘O’ ring that will make it much easier for one of usto fuck your mouth.  Five, four, three…”

“Ball,” Rafe spits out.

“Thought that would be your choice,” Parrish smirks, “Not that anyone here would want to use your mouth; for anything.”

Parrish also takes out a metal spreader bar and cuffs Rafe to it by his ankles; then handcuffs him behind his back, and metal collar around his neck.  He then fastens a length of chain from the D-ring on the back of the collar, to handcuffs, and down to the spreader bar.

“Just remember,” he tells Rafe as knocks him to his knees and lays him face down on the bed of the truck, “These are WERES issue, designed to restrain a beta werewolf.  You will not get out of them.”

“Okay, this is the plan,” Parrish turns to everyone else, “We’ve got extraction arranged.  To get there we have to go through a Union checkpoint.  That’s fine, we’re all Union soldiers; that’s why we’re in uniform.  We are transporting this slave-pet,” he indicates Rafe McCall, “To the Johnsons and Sons facility at Clarksville.  He’s violent and wild, and unfortunately there were no cages available when our unit captured him; that’s why the ten of us and the doctor were assigned to deliver him.  We don’t know why he wasn’t just terminated when there was no secure transport available; we’re just following orders to deliver him, alive and relatively unharmed.”

“What about Danny?” Jackson asks, his voice cracking and wavering, “He can’t sit on those seats, he can’t move from where he’s…”

“Danny, how do feel about playing dead when we get to the check point?” Parrish asks.

“Sure, I can do amateur dramatics,” Danny croaks, “Might not have to act much.”  Jackson whines at the attempt at humour.  “Hey, it’s fine, Sir,” Danny smiles up at Jackson.

“No, Stiles can give you the bite,” Jackson says, “If he does it now before we move.”

“No,” Danny says, “I don’t want…”

“But…” Jackson whimpers, Stiles can see there is so much more Jackson wants to say, but won’t say so publicly, “You can’t…”

“After everything I did, I I think we both know it’s better this way.”

“NO!  It’s not,” Stiles corrects him, “And, if it’s necessary, I will give you the bite; unless you truly object to becoming a werewolf.  Understood?”

“Yes, Master,” Danny wheezes; he looks pale, and his skin is damp with cold sweat.  Stiles doesn’t like how he looks and his gaze darts to the doctor.

“We can all tell, how steady his heartbeat is right now,” Yellow Wolf states, “But the sooner we get to an Alliance hospital the better.”

“Then let’s go,” Parrish says, taking the passenger seat next to Carter in the truck’s cab; she starts the engine and drives along the dirt track, heading back to the actual road.

 

Carter picks up speed once she’s got the truck on actual tarmac again, and the truck isn’t bouncing along uneven ground.  Dusk is falling around them, though there is another hour until nightfall; by which time they should be at the extraction point.

There are trucks flying past them, travelling in the opposite direction; some of the soldiers in the passing trucks sparing them a glance, but most looking grim.

“There’s reports over the radio about the base at Nezperce,” Parrish calls back to them from the cab up front, “The fighting is over, the base has been razed to the ground.  There are losses on both sides, but far more Union and WERES bodies are being reported than canid and felid bodies.”

 

  
**♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦ ∞ ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦**  


 

“We have had contact,” Braeden shouts as she rushes into Claudia’s office; both she and John Stilinski start at the sound of her voice, turning to her.

“Contact?” John warily asks.

“An undercover team at the base where Stiles and his pack were taken,” Braeden says, “I don’t know who they work for, but Parrish has connections to them and they knew how to contact us.  They have Stiles and his pack, they are heading to a rendezvous point.  Time was short, I’ve had to send a small team from Pullman to extract them.”

“That’s great,” John cries, his smile beaming at Braeden and Claudia.

“What do we know about this team?” Claudia asks.

“They aren’t out of Idaho yet, and I don’t know who this team work for or what their operation Hellfire was about.  But, we’ve got reports coming out of the Union suggesting that there have been strikes against military bases and research posts across the country,” she continues, “There are also unconfirmed reports that Morden died in the attack on the base at the airport in Nezperce.  I know nothing about the team Parrish is working with.  I’ll know more in a couple of hours; the rendezvous is due in the next hour.  Once they get safely across the border I’ll get an update.”

 

She turns and leaves before they can ask anything further.  Both Claudia and John, now feeling a glimmer of hope.

 

  
**♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦ ∞ ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦**  


 

They drove past the checkpoint at Sweetwater, with barely a second glance.  The mood in the back of the truck sombre as they headed to the second, and final, checkpoint before their extraction point.

Stiles was worried about Jackson; the paler and quieter that Danny got, the more his brother was drawing in on himself.  But he was also worried about Scott.

His submissive lover kept looking at his naked, shackled, father lying on the bed of the truck; and he, and the other wolves, could feel the anger churning inside him.

“You okay, Scotty?” Stiles calls across to him.  Scott lifts his eyes, dark and sorrowful, to him.

“Fine,” he mouths, almost silently.

“Okay,” Stiles tries to smile back at him; his attention drawn to the slowing of the truck.

“Checkpoint,” Parrish informs them, “Remember, you’re Privates in the Union Army.”

“I’m a Sergeant,” Stiles retorts, “And Derek’s a Corporal, everyone else back here is Private; Captain Parrish, Sir.”

“Just leave the talking to Carter and me.  And Stiles, try and keep a low profile, we don’t want you being recognised; you’re fairly well known in the Union,” Parrish responds, “And you keep the cap on; we don’t want them seeing your ears, or your tail,” he says to the cat.

 

“You’ve got a wild slave-pet in the back of the truck?” they hear one of the soldiers at the checkpoint ask.

“Don’t worry, he’s fully restrained, and my men are guarding him,” Parrish answers.

A few minutes later the canvas at the rear of the truck is being pulled open, and a couple of wide-eyed young recruits are staring at the bound naked form of Rafe McCall.  The agent starts trying to struggle, shouting around gag in his mouth.

“Fuck, he’s wild alright,” one the recruits say, taking a step back.

“Clearly untrained,” Stiles can’t help comment.

“Is he injured?” the other recruit enquires, looking at Danny.  Who’s lying motionless, and the shallowness of his breathing is frighteningly low enough that Stiles almost misses it.  Jackson, is looking pale and panicked as he watches over him.

“This fucker,” Stiles kicks Rafe in the balls, making him roar around the gag, “Shot and killed him.  If it were up to me, we would have returned the favour; but orders are orders,” he scowls towards Parrish, walking up behind the two green recruits.

“Indeed, they are Sergeant, and our orders are to take the dog to Clarksville,” Parrish comments, “Otherwise, I’d offer these men a chance at its ass,” the two swiftly look round to Parrish, before their gaze slides back to Rafe’s firm naked ass.  Rafe is violently shaking his head, with muffled shouts coming from behind the rubber gag.

“Hah, you’d finally lose your v-card,” one of the young soldiers jokes with his comrade.

“Shut-up, Ben, you know Mary-Louise wants to wait until we’re properly married,” the other blushes as he pushes at his friend’s shoulder.  From the way he keeps eyeing Rafe’s upturned ass, it isn’t an offer he’d turn down; but what catches the wolves’ nose, isn’t the scent from outside the truck, but from Rafe.

 

“What’s the delay over there?” comes a shout from an officer at the checkpoint cabin.

“Sorry,” Parrish closes over the flap, turning his, and the two soldiers, attention to their superior as he walks back to the truck cab, “You men were just inspecting the slave-pet we’re transporting to the Johnson’s and Son’s facility in Clarksville.”  Parrish internally kicks himself; he knew he’d made a mistake as soon as ‘Clarksville’ left his lips.  That part of Idaho is still in Alliance control.

“Clarksville?” the officer questions walking towards him; everyone in the truck stills at the tone in his voice, “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Parrish responds in a tone the makes it clear he’s not used to being questioned, “Do you need to speak with my superior at Nezperce?” he adds, stepping back into the cab of the truck.

“Given the facility hasn’t been re-opened and that part of Idaho is still…” Parrish slams the door into the man, knocking him to the ground.

“Go,” he shouts at Carter, who floors the accelerator and guns through the wooden barrier.

 

There are shots being fired at them from the startled recruits; as Stiles peers out the back of the truck he sees the officer getting to his feet and rushing to the small cabin.

“They’re not chasing after us at least,” he informs everyone.

“Because he’ll be calling ahead,” Carter shouts back at him, “It’s just a matter of whether we get to the extraction point before they do.”

 

The next five minutes are tense as Carter barrels down along the road, the headlights on the truck switched off.  Rounding a corner, she takes a sharp right and kills the engine; allowing the truck to quietly roll down the slope. 

The truck slows as it continues down, Carter steering it around the dirt track, before pulling them to a halt alongside the river.

 

“Finally, I thought you were never getting here,” they hear Ethan’s voice loudly whisper l from the river edge.  He and Raza are crouched down, each of them inside a twenty-foot jon boat.  “We gotta hurry,” he stresses, “There will be a patrol down along here in about fifteen minutes; we’re only thirty minutes from where the evac helicopters will be waiting to take us to Portland.”

 

“I can’t get Danny to wake up,” Jackson’s voice shouts as Stiles jumps from the truck, he turns and heads back inside.

“He’s still breathing, Doc?” Stiles turns to Yellow Wolf.

“There’s not enough time, you need to give him the bite now!” Jackson demands, “You promised!”

“No,” Stiles let’s his eyes colour red, trying to subjugate Jackson’s panicking wolf, “I promised I would if, and only if, he needed to be given the bite.  Doc?” he asks again, turning to the coyote.

“He’s breathing, and his heart beat is steady, if weak.  I think if we get to a hospital he’ll have a better chance of pulling through.”

“Right, let’s get him on one of the boats, Jackson, you and the Doc here will travel with Danny.

 

With Danny, Jackson, Derek, Yellow Wolf, Carter, and Cat – and Stiles knows they need to introduce themselves to each other so he at least knows the guy’s name – on Ethan’s boat, and Stiles, Scott, Isaac, Parrish, Rafe (still naked and shackled), and pierced wolf – and Stiles needs to get his name too – on Raza’s boat, they head west towards the Alliance.

 

Stiles hoping that he has made the right call about Danny.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ### Excerpt from Chapter-05
> 
>   
>   
>  The boats sped down Clearwater River towards the border; Union soldiers and WERES agents chasing along the roads that lined the river in trucks, shooting at them in the darkness.  
> “You have to give him the bite; now!” Jackson demands, from Ethan’s boat, of Stiles who’s in Raza’s boat, “I… we’re losing him.”  
> “Mr Mahealani’s condition has not worsened in the ten minutes we have been on this boat,” the doctor contradicts him.  
> “Jackson, I know you’re worried about him, we all are,” Stiles tries to reassure his brother, “But if I give him the bite there is no guarantee he will survive it; it has to be a last resort.”  
> “He will survive it; he has to,” Jackson insists.  
> “Jacks, I know how much he means to you, and I promise, just like I told him, if there is no other way to save him, I will give him the bite; but now is not the time,” Stiles asserts. He can see the fear and resentment in Jackson’s eyes.  
>   
> 
> 
>   
> ########################################  
> 
> 
>   
> “So, Danny’s responding to the antibiotics they gave him back in Clarkston before we left,” Stiles informs him, “His temperature is coming down, and the doctors say he’s out of danger…”  
> “HE wouldn’t have been in danger if…” Jackson growls, turning his blue eyes on Stiles.  
> “Seriously, are we doing this, again?!” Stiles interrupts him, exasperation dripping from every word.  
> “He almost died, if you had given him the bite…”  
> “He might have rejected it and died!” Stiles cuts him off, “We’ve been over this Jackson, and I know you were scared of losing him,” Jackson finches at the words  
>   
> 


	5. Chapter 5

 

 

The boats speed down Clearwater River towards the border; Union soldiers and WERES agents chasing along the roads that lined the river in trucks, shooting at them in the darkness.

“You have to give him the bite; now!” Jackson demands, from Ethan’s boat, of Stiles who’s in Raza’s boat, “I… we’re losing him.”

“Mr Mahealani’s condition has not worsened in the ten minutes we have been on this boat,” the doctor contradicts him.

“Jackson, I know you’re worried about him, we all are,” Stiles tries to reassure his brother, “But if I give him the bite there is no guarantee he will survive it; it has to be a last resort.”

“He will survive it; he has to,” Jackson insists.

“Jacks, I know how much he means to you, and I promise, just like I told him, if there is no other way to save him, I will give him the bite; but now is not the time,” Stiles asserts.  He can see the fear and resentment in Jackson’s eyes.  He knows why; if the situation was reversed and it was Derek, he’d be demanding the same thing.  But Danny said no when offered earlier, and Stiles promised he would only if there was no other option.  He has to keep that promise.  They’re not out of options and chances yet; they’re only twenty minutes from Clarkston, inside the Alliance, and a hospital.

 

Five minutes later searchlights shine on them from two Union boats that have joined the pursuit as they pass the Clearwater River Casino and Lodge.  The machine gun fire from the boats hit the water either side of them, as they speed towards them; gaining on them with every second.  One boat draws up just behind Raza’s boat, two soldiers ready to jump across; clearly after Stiles.  Parrish leaps at the men, his clothes burning from his body as he shifts, colliding with them and knocking them back into the boat.  Gun fire roars from the now burning boat, firing wildly out to the north bank of the river; hitting the Union forces in the trucks that are trailing them.

As the boat careers off towards the bank, the men inside charred corpses, Parrish leaps back to Raza’s boat, narrowly missing and landing the water; he grasps the side of the boat and Stiles pulls him back on board.

“You just can’t keep your clothes on, can you?” Stiles tries to lighten the mood.

“Well, as a fellow shapeshifter you know how strong the temptation to just get naked is,” Parrish grins back at him.

 

Minutes later, as they pass Hatwai, the Union forces are receiving return fire from the Alliance just inside the Idaho border.  The trucks screech to a halt their fire now focused on the Alliance forces; the remaining boat turns and retreats.

It isn’t much longer that the boats are docking, and Danny is being rushed into the back of an ambulance; Jackson doesn’t let it leave without him, and Stiles in it.  The rest of the pack, and additional rescued weres, are being loaded into other waiting vehicles and following the ambulance in the five-minute journey to the hospital.

 

The tension between Jackson and Stiles, in the back of the ambulance, is palpable.  And it doesn’t end when they arrive and Danny is rushed through doors to be examined.  Jackson will not leave the room, and neither will Stiles.

“I made him a promise, if necessary, as his alpha and his owner, I’ll bite him,” Stiles informs the doctor, “So, tell me, is it?”

 

  
**♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦ ∞ ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦**  


 

“They are in Clarkston,” Braeden announces as she strides into Claudia’s office.

“Are they alright?”  Are they injured?” Laura asks, before Claudia has opened her mouth.

“They are at the hospital now, and are being examined; the reports I have are that Danny Mahealani has a gunshot wound, but I have no other details on his or the other pack members condition.  The Union forces however, have not retreated from their position five miles from the Washington/Idaho border; we are holding them there, partly due to the fighting they are facing in northern Idaho.  Reports are that forces of other therianthropes, coyotes, bears, mountain lions, and others, are pushing them south, and that these are the forces that attacked the base where Stiles and the pack were being held.”

“What do we know about these forces?” Claudia inquires of Braeden, “And their connection to Parrish?”

“Very little, I need to fully question Parrish regarding them,” she replies, “I’d also suggest relocating Stiles, his pack, and Parrish further inside the Alliance; and that we increase the presence of our troops along the Idaho border.”

“Yes,” Claudia agrees, “But our border with the Union is already stretching our forces.”

“True, but the Union will be dealing with the other therianthrope attacks.  If we make use of these, as a distraction or a supplementary force, then we only need to strength our forces where the Union could be pushed back against us; where they are being drawn back in to deal with internal unrest, we can reduce the troop levels there to bolster the numbers where we need them.”

“Assuming these other forces are strong enough to engage the Union forces as an on-going threat,” Laura adds, “If we move our troops and their forces fall back, we will have compromised the protection of our borders.”

“We need more information.  On Parrish, this group he’s involved with and what their intentions are, and what the Union plans are,” Claudia slumps forward in her chair, her elbows hitting the surface of the desk and her head landing in her hands, “Damn it, all I care about right now is getting my son and his pack safely back home,” she looks up at Braeden, “That’s the priority.”

“I’ll start with that,” Braeden smiles at her, “And get you the information you need as soon as I can.  Oh, and their prisoner, Rafael McCall, is on a transport back to Beacon Hills.”

“I’ll let John know to have a cell ready for him,” Claudia doesn’t hold the snarl of satisfaction on hearing that man will be in held in her jurisdiction for trail; she can’t wait to make him pay for kidnapping her son and his pack.  She knows John feels the same, and that they want to grab Parrish around the neck and throttle him for taking Stiles from the hospital after he was saved and putting his life in danger; again.

 

  
**♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦ ∞ ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦**  


 

Jackson is sitting in the waiting room of yet another hospital.  They were flown by helicopter from the hospital in Clarkston to Oregon Health and Science University in Portland; they landed an hour ago.  Two helicopters, landing thirty minutes apart.  Despite his focus being on Danny, who was in the first helicopter with him and Stiles, he still felt the near panic at being separated from the others.

 

The anger he feels, felt, **NO!**   He still feels angry at Stiles; his alpha, his brother, should have bitten Danny and they wouldn’t be here worrying if he was going to be okay.  Danny would be; he would have healed the gunshot wound already.  Instead he’s unconscious with a fever from the infection he got in the wound; probably from something on the Union uniform he was wearing, or from the floor of the truck, or the boat.

He hears the door open and the fall of footsteps heading towards him; he ignores the person when they sit next to him.  It’s not like he doesn’t know who it is.

 

“So, Danny’s responding to the antibiotics they gave him back in Clarkston before we left,” Stiles informs him, “His temperature is coming down, and the doctors say he’s out of danger…”

“HE wouldn’t have been in danger if…” Jackson growls, turning his blue eyes on Stiles.

“Seriously, are we doing this, again?!” Stiles interrupts him, exasperation dripping from every word.

“He almost died, if you had given him the bite…”

“He might have rejected it and died!” Stiles cuts him off, “We’ve been over this Jackson, and I know you were scared of losing him,” Jackson finches at the words, “I was too.  I was constantly second guessing myself; wondering if I was making the right decision.  But it wouldn’t have been right to attempt changing him when there was still a chance.  You know he refused the bite, and that I told him I would do it only as a last resort.”

“I know,” Jackson relents, his shoulders slumped as Stiles pulls him into a hug, “I just… I can’t…” 

“I know, bro, I know,” Stiles comforts him.  But Jackson isn’t sure his brother does know; even he’s not sure he knows what it is he can’t do… risk losing Danny, or risk telling him the truth and… No.  The hurt is still too much, he won’t even consider that; no matter what Danny means to him.

“Come on,” Stiles is dragging him towards the door, “I need you to sit with Danny while I go check on everyone else, including the cat, the other wolf, and Parrish.”

“You plan on expanding our pack again?”

“What?  No definitely not… no… maybe,” the alpha replies.

“Right,” Jackson snorts, “It’s not like you’re in the habit of collecting strays.”

“Whatever,” Stiles grouses, but he doesn’t hide the smile pulling at the edges of his mouth, as he pushes Jackson through the door of Danny’s room, before he continues down the corridor in search of the others.

 

Jackson looks over at the bed.  Danny’s asleep, but looking a lot better than when he saw him last.  He listens to his heartbeat as he sits on the chair next to the bed; it’s stronger, it’s steady.  He closes his eyes, a smile pulling at his own lips, and the sound of Danny’s heart soon lulls him to a sleep he hadn’t allowed himself since their escape.

 

  
**♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦ ∞ ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦**  


 

The people in white coats keep asking him questions, and he barks like he’s supposed to, like his Master trained him, but they don’t seem happy.  They look upset at his barking, and he doesn’t know what to do; doesn’t know what they want him to do.  He wishes his Master was here to tell him what to do; or the alpha.

 

But his Master is dead, and the alpha isn’t here; he went with the human that was shot.  And his fear and worry rise as the white coats, doctors the alpha called them, not vets, they just keep asking him the same thing.

“Can you tell me your name?” the woman in the white coat asks, again.  They’ve asked him several times, they asked at the other place too, but the alpha got them to stop, and then they were taken here, and without the alpha they just keep asking him questions, and when he barks his answers they look at him with disappointment, and…

“Aah-owooooo,” the howl is torn from his throat, the distress he feels overwhelming any control he had.

 

“ **What are you doing?!  Get away from him!** ” the words are shouted from behind the wall of white coats that surrounds him.  It’s the alpha.

“He’s become very distressed and…” one of the white coats starts to say.

“I’m not surprised he’s distressed with all of you crowding round him; **now, get the fuck away from him** ,” the alpha commands them, a small gap appears and he bolts through it to the alpha; wrapping his front paws around the alpha’s neck and baring his throat to him.

“It’s okay,” the alpha murmurs at his ear, scenting his neck and holding him tightly, “I’ve got you, and I won’t let them do anything to hurt you; I promise.”

And he knows he can trust the alpha to look after him.

 

“I want you to sit up on this bed,” the alpha softly says, asking, “Okay?”

He looks fearfully at the bed; his Master never allowed him on the furniture that was for humans.  But the alpha is smiling at him, and he swallows hard before nodding.

“Woof,” he barks and cautiously climbs onto the bed, sitting with his hind legs dangling over the edge.  The alpha is still smiling, and has taken hold of his hand; so, he knows he did good.

“I know you understand English, but do you remember speaking it?” the alpha asks.

“Woof.”

“Can you speak it now?”

“…” he opens his mouth to… what?  He closes it again, fear creeping in, he can’t remember when he last used human words; doesn’t know if he can or wants to, “Woof, woof.”

“No?” the alpha seems surprised at his answer, but he doesn’t look angry at him, not that he looks happy either.  He doesn’t hold back the whine at the worry of not pleasing the alpha causes.  The alpha clasps a hand on the back of his neck and smiles, “It’s okay, no worries.  My name is Stiles.  I was going to ask yours, I’d like to know your name, but if you can’t speak you won’t be able to tell me…”

“I…” he wants to be good for Stiles, he wants to tell him his name.  He knows he had one before he was ‘slave’, ‘pet’, ‘dogface’, ‘bitch’, he just… “Ste… Stev… Stephen… my… name… is… Stephen,” he manages to stumble out, though all he cares about is that Alpha Stiles is beaming at him; he pleased his alpha.

“That’s great Steve, can I call you Steve?  Or do you prefer Stephen?” the question confuses him, and his alpha must know as he continues, “You know, never mind, do you have a surname to go with that?”

A surname… he knows he has, he just needs to drag it from the depths of his memories.

“Lunsford,” he whispers, more questioning than certain.

“Great,” his alpha smiles, “So, Stephen Lunsford, we want to let the doctors,” he whimpers, his eyes darting from his alpha to the white coats behind him, “Hey, it’s okay.  Like I said, I’m not going to let them hurt you, but I want you to let them examine you and check if there is anything wrong; okay?”

He slowly nods.

“Good.  I’ll be right here,” Alpha Stiles smiles at him, pointing to a corner not far from the bed, but he doesn’t let go of the alpha’s hand.  “Okay, a little nervous of the doctors are we, I don’t blame you,” his alpha reassures him, “How about if I get one of the doctors to go find Yellow Wolf?  You remember him, right?  The doctor that was with us…”

“Woof,” he affirms; he remembers the coyote.

“Right,” his alpha turns to the white coats and conveys something with a look before turning back to him, “You are allowed to speak English, or any other human language, here in the Alliance.”  He doesn’t want to, he remembers the beatings he got when he forgot he wasn’t allowed; he doesn’t want another one.  But Alpha Stiles was happy when he talked human, English, and he wants to make his alpha smile.

“Thank you, Alpha,” he looks down to where his front paw is keeping a firm grip of his alpha’s hand.

 

When the coyote arrives, he’s dressed like the other white coats.

“I’ll just need one nurse,” Yellow Wolf informs the assembly of staff, all but one of whom leave to attend other duties.  “I hear you’re finally talking,” the coyote grins at him.  He looks to his alpha before turning back to the doctor.

“Yes,” he barely whispers.

“Good, then you’ll be able to answer some questions for me,” Yellow Wolf continues to smile at him.  “Firstly, I notice the heavy chains attached to your nipple rings and labia rings are pulling rather severely, and there are some small tears in your flesh; so, how about we take the chains off, and the rings out?”

He shakes his head.  Master said they were never to come off, he can’t let the doctor remove them.  He whines in fear and confusion; why is he asking him?  He should ask his Master, his alpha.

“Stephen,” his alpha’s voice is firm and comforting, “The doctor is going to remove the chains; they are too heavy and are causing you pain and injury.  He’ll leave the rings in, for moment, and clean you up so that you can heal.  Okay?”

“Yes,” he nods.  His alpha smiles; he’s pleased with him again.  That makes him happy too.  The doctor removes the chains, and he feels the relief as the tug on his nipples and vaginal lips disappears.

“Now, I’m going to ask you to lie back on the bed,” the coyote doctor tells him, “And I’m going carry out a bimanual examination.  What the examination will involve is me using one hand to feel your tummy and the other hand to place two fingers into your vagina.  It shouldn’t be painful, but it will feel a little uncomfortable.  Let me know at any point if you would like me to stop.”  He looks to his alpha for guidance on what he wants him to do.

“Are you okay with this?” Alpha Stiles asks him.

“Alpha?” he asks, holding on to him tightly.

“Everything will be okay, I’ll stay with you throughout the exam, okay?” his alpha states.  He nods his consent.

“Are you happy for me to perform the examination?” the coyote asks, “I need you to give me a verbal answer.

“Woof,” he waveringly consents, before looking between his alpha and the doctor and stating, “Yes.”  He lays down on the bed.

“Bring your heels towards your bottom and then let your knees fall to the sides,” the coyote tells him.  He follows the instruction, never letting go of his alpha’s hand as the examination is performed.

 

A look passes between the doctor and his alpha.  He isn’t sure what it means.

“I’d like to perform a transvaginal ultrasound,” the doctor says.

“What?!  Why?” his alpha asks, staring down the coyote.

“Stephen,” the doctor turns to him, “Do you know if they did more changes to you than…” he’s whining before the coyote has finished asking.

“Hey,” his alpha squeezes his hand, “Don’t worry,” before turning to the doctor and telling him, “Hurry up, do the exam and finish.”  He’s glad his alpha took the decision for him.

 

“I thought this sort of thing was ten years away, if not more,” the doctor is murmuring to himself as he looks at the results of the ultrasound, “Everything seems to be… fine, there’s no abnormalities or any condition to be concerned about.”

“Okay doc; then as he’s fit and healthy, can you give him the anti-kibble shot?” Alpha Stiles says.  He turns his head sharply to look at his alpha, who looks down at him and says, “Don’t worry; it’s just some medicine to clean out all the stuff that eating kibble does to you; everyone in my pack has had it.”

“Yes, Alpha,” he replies.

“Now, this is going to make you drowsy, and you are going to fall asleep while it works,” he feels his heart beat increase, “I’ll stay here until you fall asleep, then I’ll go check on the rest of my betas, but I’ll be back here before you wake up; I promise.”

He knows Alpha Stiles is telling him the truth, and it eases the fear he had.  His alpha has stayed beside him through everything; his Master never did, he would leave him in the hands of the veterinarians and they never explained what was happening to him.  He was always terrified of what they were doing to him; when they put him to sleep to operate, he wasn’t sure if he was going to wake up.  But, Alpha Stiles says he will wake up.

“Thank you, Alpha.”

 

  
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Once Stephen falls asleep, Stiles knows he has between eighteen and thirty-six hours before the wolf will wake as the cure works through his system.  He goes in search of Yellow Wolf, or Deaton, someone that can tell him exactly what Morden had done to the man; werewolf.

 

He finds Deaton, Yellow Wolf, Parrish, and the Cat sitting around a table in one of the doctors’ offices.

“So…” he drawls walking in.

“Stiles, you remember Zayn Qadir,” Parrish indicates the cat sitting to his left; Yellow Wolf and Deaton are sitting to Parrish’s right.

“Sure, hard to forget guy that slashed Morden’s chest as he tried to escape,” Stiles replies, holding his hand out to shake, “We haven’t actually been introduced until now though.”

“Zayn has been filling us in on some of what Morden had planned for Stephen,” Yellow Wolf informs him, “And it explains a lot of what my examination found.”

“Morden had Doctor Richard Franklin…”

“The man’s a monster,” Zayn shudders as he mentions the name.

“Yeah,” Parrish continues, “He carries out some of WERES most extreme experiments, including the ones on werecats that resulted in the werecats classed as Nekomimi; like Zayn.”

“They don’t plan to stop with werecats,” Zayn adds, “I overheard them discuss how having all werecreatures having visible traits of their animal would help solidify their position as slave-pets.  Their plan is that every ‘thrope’ would have something of their animal show when they were not shifted.”

“Damn,” Stiles curses.

“Yeah,” Parrish states, “And part of that is the experimentation Morden had carried out on Stephen.”

“As well as giving him a fully sensate vagina, a womb and ovaries have also been transplanted into him.  However, from the files Parrish as copied from the WERES servers, it appears that the uterus and ovaries, taken from a young female werewolf, have been greatly altered; the wolf genes within them increased,” Yellow Wolf states, his anger and disgust barely held in check.

“It appears that Franklin’s, and Morden’s, objective was not just to have wolf features present in the werewolf’s non-shifted form, but also to reduce the gestation period and increase the number of children per pregnancy,” Deaton adds.

“A slave factory; with increased profitability,” Parrish baldly states.

“So, can we raise him and kill him again?” Stiles snarls, incensed at inhumanity of the treatment Stephen has received, “Jesus fucking Christ; what is wrong with these people?”

“Stiles,” Deaton cautiously states, “You need to calm down, your eyes have shifted, and you don’t want your anger to affect your pack; especially those that aren’t here with you and are already stressed by the separation from their alpha.”

“I know,” he agrees through clenched teeth, “And that reminds me, Derek’s arranged a Skype call with them.  Can I take it that it’s gonna be the top-end of the cure’s timeframe for it to work on Stephen?”

“I’d expect so,” Deaton agrees.

“Then, I’m gonna head to the room I’ve been allocated with Derek, Scott and Isaac see how they are doing, make the call Derek’s setup to the rest of my pack back in Beacon Hills, check on Jackson and Danny, shower, sleep, eat, and then get back to Stephen’s room before he wakes up.”

 

Stiles stands to leave, but a thought crosses his mind.

“If Stephen wants the changes they made to him reversed, can we do that for him?” he asks Yellow Wolf and Deaton.  He sees them share a look, before either of them answers.

“We could perform a phalloplasty; reconstruct a neophallus, with erogenous and physical sensation, enabling him to void while standing and have sexual intercourse.  A penile prosthesis and testicular prostheses can be implanted when sensation has returned…” Deaton explains.

“So,” Stiles interrupts, “The Union take his cock and balls and give him a fully functioning viable womb and ovaries, and the best we can do is give him a prosthetic cock and balls…”

“We can’t give back what was stolen from him, but we can give him a functioning version of what he should have,” Yellow Wolf carefully states.

“Remember,” Deaton adds, “The womb and ovaries that he was given were taken from a female werewolf, and transplanted into his body.  We don’t know how they were able to ensure they were not rejected.  That makes transplanting the testes of a male werewolf even more difficult; even if we had a donor.”

“I get it,” Stiles replies.

“There is one more thing,” Deaton informs him, “I expect that the level of change in Mr Lunsford will be closer to the effects of the cure on the werewolves like Jacob Black, than it is on those like Derek and Jackson.”

“Why?” Stiles demands.

“He was very far gone, Alpha Stilinski,” Yellow Wolf solemnly states, “From the results of the blood tests, and the scans, I would not have expected him to survive the death of Morden, his Master.  In fact, he should not have been able to obey anyone without Morden’s permission,” Stiles doesn’t like how all eyes in the room are on him.

“What does that mean?” he asks.

“He obeyed you, he followed your lead,” Parrish explains, “And we don’t know why.  But, you can bet it has something to do with the experiments that created you, and that Morden wanted you back to continue.”

 

Stiles quickly makes his way to the private room that’s been set up for him, Derek, Scott, and Isaac.  Derek has borrowed a laptop to set up the Skype call with everyone.  He’s desperate to see the rest of his pack again, and his mom and dad, but especially to see James and Talia; he’s missing his kids, and he knows how much Derek is missing them too.  Scott has already called Melissa, and Derek has talked to Laura and Cora; but Stiles has been so focused on Danny, Jackson, and Stephen, that just making a call home become something that dropped down his list of things to do.  So, this Skype call is important, and he has something to share with them.

 

  
**♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦ ∞ ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦**  


 

Liam stared at the screen of his laptop.  The screen showing the four windows with the video feed from the others connected in the call; Alpha Laura Hale and Glenn with James and Talia, Alpha Claudia Stilinski and the Sheriff, the pack split across two other windows.  Boyd, Erica, Jacob, Allison, and Lydia in one.  Derek, Scott, Isaac, and Stiles in the other.

 

He was going to ignore the call; he’d been avoiding the pack since he stormed out of the den two days ago after smashing the television.  But Mason had seen the text about the Skype call, and when the group video call started Mason accepted it.  Now his friend is sitting on the side of his bed, while he is sitting in front computer screen watching the physical contact between the pack mates in two of the little screens; the easy touching between Boyd, Erica, and Jacob in one, and the constant contact between Derek, Scott, Isaac, and their alpha in the other.  And he misses it.  The contact and comfort of the pack.

He’s been part of the pack for less than a month, and he’s separated himself from then for less than two days; but that feeling of losing his alpha when Stiles was kidnapped, and when they heard that the Alliance wasn’t going to rescue them.  He never wanted that feeling again; never wanted to relive it.  He did.

Maybe not as strongly as when his dad died, but it he recognised the numbness as he realised his alpha was gone and not coming back.  Only here he is on the screen…

“…anyway, we will be back in the next day or two,” Stiles is saying, and Liam realises he’s missed most of what’s been said while he was lost in his own thoughts, “Just as soon as the doctor says that Danny is well enough to travel.  Definitely before the full moon.”

“We go to the woods again?” Jacob excitedly yelps.

“Sure, we can arrange that,” Stiles agrees, “Can’t we,” he turns to Derek.

“Only if we take James and Talia with us,” Derek smiles at the alpha, “We’ve been away from them for too long.”

“Yeah,” Stiles looks fondly at his mate, “I miss them too,” he says before kissing Derek on the lips.

“Aww,” Erica, Allison, and Lydia soppily sigh.

“Anyway,” Stiles quickly continues, “Have you guys seen the CNN news feeds from inside the Union?  I know they try to block it, but there’s some stuff they were broadcasting in the last few hours, stuff that the one the groups Parrish was working with got to them that he’d taken from the WERES servers, and now they’re reporting, or trying to, on the reactions.  Here, this is the website…”

In the conversation window, a web address appears; he clicks the link.  It takes him to a video report on experiments that WERES was conducting through the Newman-McMahon Corporation.  It gives some details on the experiments that they carried out; to create the Nekomimi, and how they are expanding those experiments into other therianthrope races to make them look more like their animal and less human.  And it covers the experiments that they carried out on service personnel serving in the military; with the full co-operation of Pentagon and White House.  It shows that experiment after experiment resulted in those that took part becoming a therianthrope of one kind or another.  It also states that Stephen Lunsford was one of those service personnel, and it has video footage of him being ‘trained’ as a slave-pet by Morden; before he assassinated President Palin.

The reactions and comments on the piece runs the full range of those calling for sale of werewolves and werecats to be banned, and a full investigation and prosecution of WERES and NMC for their actions, to those that scream ‘FAKE NEWS’ despite the evidence presented.

Liam doesn’t know what to make of it, but Mason, who’s watching it with him seems to think it’s good; that it will start to make a difference inside the Union.

 

“With the attacks on the bases and the reports of Morden’s death, which are still being reported as unconfirmed within the Union, it’s difficult to get any reliable information right now,” Claudia is saying, “But we are hearing there are some people trying to arrange protests outside WERES and NMC buildings and facilities.”

“We need to cut this call short,” Stiles suddenly says, “We’re all tired and need some sleep, but we’ll call or text tomorrow with an update on Danny, and arrangements for us getting back home.”

 

“See,” Mason says once the call has ended, “Your alpha’s coming home; everything is gonna be fine.”

Liam smiles briefly, but he can’t shake the detachment he still feels from the pack.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ### NOTE: On Hiatus
> 
>   
>  Folks, for those of you still reading my WERES series, and this story in particular, I want to let you know that while I will still complete the story I am putting it on hiatus until I complete some of the other stories I'm working on. I hope to get back to this as soon as possible, but I don't expect that to be until after the New Year. Hopefully you will still be interested in finding out how this story and series ends.  
>   
> 
> 
> ### Excerpt from Chapter-06
> 
> #### Note: this will not be posted until after the hiatus
> 
> Jackson stirs, feeling the light hitting his closed eyes, which flicker open as he realises it’s morning and the sun is streaming through the window. He sees the eyes watching him, wonders how long they have watched him sleep, and can’t stop the smile that smirks across his face when they quickly flit away from him on seeing him looking back.  
> “Finally awake,” he says to Danny, “I should let Stiles and the doctors know.”  
> “No need,” Stiles states as he waltzes into the room, “I figured I should come and check on you before I head back to Stephen’s room.” Jackson isn’t sure of the ‘check on you’ was aimed at him or Danny, or both. He sees Danny’s eyes crinkle in confusion at Stiles’s reference to ‘Stephen’, not knowing who that is.  
> “How are you feeling?” Stiles continues as he looks down at Danny.  
> “Fine, Master,” Danny croaks in reply.  
> “Here,” Jackson leaps from the chair, picking up the jug of water on the night stand and pouring some into the glass holds it out to the human. Danny takes it and raises the glass to his lips, “Small sips,” Jackson reminds him; ignoring the smirks from their alpha standing on the other side of the bed.  
>   
> 


	6. Chapter-06

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has not been beta'd and all mistakes are my own.  
> 
> 
>   
>  **§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§**   
>    
>    
> 
> 
>   
> 

Stiles is lying on his back; Derek is curled in against his left side, and Isaac is curled against his right. Scott is behind Isaac, and normally he’d be spooning in around Isaac’s back. Only he’s not; he spent the night mostly at the edge of the mattress, and now, he’s out of bed before anyone else and showering in the en-suite.

Stiles disentangles himself from his bed partners, though bed is overstating the two single mattresses they took from the hospital beds and put together on the floor for the four of them to use, and heads to the running shower to check on Scott.

  
  
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Scott had to get out of the ‘bed’; he couldn’t lay there not sleeping any longer.

Back in the Union base, when Stiles got them together in the room, he needed the closeness of his pack, to be near his mate and his alpha; it didn’t matter that he didn’t think he deserved it, his instincts took over and nothing could stop him seeking out contact with his pack. Especially Isaac, Derek and Stiles. But, the next morning when he and Isaac were showering, he noticed it; the stench of the use he’d been put to clinging to him, the way Isaac’s nostrils flared at being assaulted with the odour, even under the spray of water, and how he didn’t want to be touched by him.

He knew he stank of the stale piss that had clung to his body, and the piss he had been forced to drink; he knows he still smells like a men’s urinal and not of his pack. No matter how hard he scrubs he can’t remove the stink.

And he knows he failed his mate; that he is the reason the WERES and Union soldiers hurt Isaac, because he couldn’t protect him like he should have.

He’s so caught up in his thoughts and the pounding of the water falling over him that he flinches at the hand coming to rest on his shoulder, pulling back against the wall.

“Hey, buddy,” Stiles looks at him questioningly, concern visible on his face, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Scott lies.

“Are you forgetting we’re both werewolves?”

“No,” he bites at his bottom lip.

“Do I need to go all red-eyed alpha on you to get you to tell me what’s bothering you?” Stiles raises his eyebrows at him.

“No,” Scott relents, but he can’t tell him the whole truth, he can’t tell him how much of a failure he knows he is, and how Isaac deserves a better mate, “It’s just, I wish everything could go back to normal, but… it’s just everything that happened is still… you know?”

“Yeah,” Stiles pulls him into a hug, rubbing their cheeks together, and Scott knows it’s because he doesn’t smell like pack, and that Stiles can tell how the stench is not being washed away, “But we’ll get back to normal, however long it takes, we’ll be there for each other. Love you Scotty.”

“Love you too,” Scott cries on Stiles’s shoulder; hoping the shower hides his tears.

  
  
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Jackson stirs, feeling the light hitting his closed eyes, which flicker open as he realises it’s morning and the sun is streaming through the window. He sees the eyes watching him, wonders how long they have watched him sleep, and can’t stop the smile that smirks across his face when they quickly flit away from him on seeing him looking back.

“Finally awake,” he says to Danny, “I should let Stiles and the doctors know.”

“No need,” Stiles states as he waltzes into the room, “I figured I should come and check on you before I head back to Stephen’s room.” Jackson isn’t sure of the ‘check on you’ was aimed at him or Danny, or both. He sees Danny’s eyes crinkle in confusion at Stiles’s reference to ‘Stephen’, not knowing who that is.

“How are you feeling?” Stiles continues on as he looks down at Danny.

“Fine, Master,” Danny croaks in reply.

“Here,” Jackson leaps from the chair, picking up the jug of water on the night stand and pouring some into the glass holds it out to the human. Danny takes it and raises the glass to his lips, “Small sips,” Jackson reminds him; ignoring the smirks from their alpha standing on the other side of the bed.

“I’ll let the doc know you’re awake, and have him come and check on you,” Stiles tells Danny, “I’ll leave Jackson to keep an eye on you while I go check on Stephen.”

“Am I still human?” Danny asks him as soon as Stiles has left the room.

“Yeah,” he grumbles in reply, “You’d be healed by now if you weren’t.” Danny falls silent, and Jackson can see him frowning, “What?” he snaps at him.

“I told Master that I didn’t want the bite, not unless there was no other option, Sir,” Danny quietly replies, sipping at the water, “I’m glad he kept his promise.”

“We only just got back to the Alliance in time, you could have died!” Jackson snarls, “He should have bitten you, then you would have been healed; you wouldn’t have been in danger.”

“I didn’t want to become a wolf, not unless I had to, Sir,” Danny all but whimpers from the bed. But Jackson is too incensed, too caught in his own feelings and memories to see the distress.

“Why? Do you still think so little of werewolves that you couldn’t consider becoming one, even to save your life?”

“No…” 

Before Danny can say anymore, one of the nurses enters to tell them that the doctor will be in to check on Danny in a few minutes. When the nurse leaves, the silence sits between them, both alone in their own thoughts and unable to express their meaning. Frustrated by the mix of emotions, Jackson retreats to the bathroom; leaving Danny alone on his bed, equally exasperated.

  
  
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“It could be a while before he wakes up yet,” Derek says as he straddles Stiles lap, making the plastic seat groan as it strains under the weight of two werewolves; he lays his head on Stiles’s shoulder, turning his head so that his nose brushes against his neck, just under his ear, “Are you sure you can’t come and have lunch with us?”

“Mmh,” Stiles purrs against him, running his hands down Derek’s front, rummaging at the hem of his sweater before his hands slide under and up over his flat stomach, reaching and teasing his nipples before they retreat to his abs and stroke the naked flesh, “As much as I’d like to, I promised him I’d be here when he wakes up; you know I won’t break my promise.”

“I know,” Derek accedes, a pout playing at his lips, “But it would be nice for us to eat together; you, me, Scott, and Isaac. Jackson’s unlikely to leave Danny’s room…”

“We should all eat in there with them, as a pack,” Stiles states, “But, I need to be here.”

“Okay,” Derek sighs, and Stiles picks up on something unsaid.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his arms wrapping around his mate and holding Derek against him.

“It’s nothing…”

“Scott tried that this morning in the shower, I didn’t believe him, and I know the ‘truth’ he told me wasn’t the whole of the story; so tell me what’s wrong.”

“I woke up during the night, and I noticed Scott wasn’t spooning against Isaac like he normally does. Then this morning, while you and Scott were in the shower, Isaac flinched when I went to hold him. I guess I’m just worried about them; about how they are holding up after everything.”

“Me too,” Stiles says, thinking how in the Union base he was worrying about Scott’s, Isaac’s, and Danny’s missing collars, and now he’s wondering if they will even want to wear his collar. He looks fondly up at Derek, “For now, we just got to be there for them and let them know we love them. But once we’re home I want all the pack to talk with the counsellor at centre. I think we could all use some therapy to help us cope with what we each went through.”

“Love you,” Derek kisses his alpha.

“Love you too, Sourwolf,” Stiles kisses him back.

“Oh,” Derek says as he stands and walks to the door, “Your mom and Braeden are going to be arriving later today, apparently they want to ‘talk’ to Parrish.”

“Let me know when they get here,” Stiles groans; he didn’t like the implication in the way Derek said they wanted to _talk_ to Parrish.

“Sure,” Derek smiled at him, “I’ll bring you some lunch too.”

Once Derek left, Stiles leaned back on the chair, stretching, before turning his attention back to the sleeping wolf in the bed; he himself soon dozing.

  
  
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His eyes flutter open and he expects to find himself alone in the room; he’d always woken up alone. Only he’s not. The alpha is there, just like he said he’d be.

Stephen can’t help but spend a few minutes laying there in the bed, watching the alpha sleep while sitting in the chair; his head fallen back, and his mouth hanging open. But, eventually his mind wanders back to where he is, and why he’s here; to what WERES, specifically what Morden, did to him.

He’s lost everything he had, his career, his family, and most importantly his wife and daughter. But as he lifts the covers from his body and looks down at himself he knows that there is no way he could be the husband that his wife, ex-wife, deserves. And he doesn’t know how he feels about that. What he does know is that he feels lost. He doesn’t have a ‘master’ to serve, he doesn’t know what his purpose is; he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do now. 

He needs direction, and it scares him. He knows he used to be self-confident, and know himself and what he wanted to achieve. All he knows now is the need to have someone – a master or an alpha– to give him meaning; someone to follow and obey.

The wrecked sob breaks him from his thoughts. He feels the dampness on his cheeks and doesn’t know when he started crying.

“Hey, it’s going to be alright,” he hears the alpha tell him, as the man wraps his arms around him, pulling him against him. 

“Alpha,” he whispers in response as he takes the comfort, wrapping his arms around the alpha and breathing in his scent, allowing it to calm him; hoping that the alpha will take him, and keep him.

“Let’s get one of the doctors in here to check you out, yeah?” the alpha says, pulling back from him.

“No, please, don’t leave me,” he cries, holding tightly to the man.

“Okay,” the alpha says, relaxing back against him, sitting on the edge of the bed. Stephen moves to make room for him, panicking slightly when one of the alpha’s hands moves from his back and he can hear flailing to the side, before the alpha’s hand hits something and then come back around him.

He moves his head to rest on the alpha’s shoulder, brushing his nose against the alpha’s neck. He’d never have taken this liberty with his Master.

“It’s okay, everything is going to be fine, don’t worry,” the alpha comforts him; now, here with the alpha he feels safe. As long as the alpha wants him and keeps him, he knows everything will be fine; just like the alpha says.

  
  
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦  
∞  
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦  
  
  


Stiles stays with Stephen while Yellow Wolf examines him. It wasn’t as if he planned to leave the wolf alone with a doctor anyway, even if he could go anywhere; Stephen is keeping a firm grip of his hand, and at any suggestion of him leaving becomes quite distressed.

After the doc is finished, and has taken some blood for further testing, the beta wolf is tired and quickly falls asleep.

“That’s weird,” Stiles comments looking down at the wolf sleeping peaceful, “He’s a lot more clingy that I was expecting. I thought he’d be, you know, more assertive.”

“He’s been exposed to greater levels of the aconite compounds responsible for the change in brain chemistry than most werewolves; even among the longest enslaved that have been treated within the Alliance from what I have seen,” the doc informs him, “Though there were signs of insistence from him, it was more in showing his need for your presence, and for your direction in allowing me to perform the examination.”

“You did warn me he’d be more like a wolf from the breeding programs, I just thought, hoped, that he’d be more independent,” at Yellow Wolf’s quizzical look Stiles adds, “I guess because of his service record, he was a Lieutenant; he was awarded the Meritorious Service Medal, the Achievement Medal, and the Good Conduct Medal. You don’t have his kind of record without being able to show some initiative…”

“You need to consider what he’s been through since his military career was cut short,” Deaton says from the doorway, “We don’t know the extent of the treatment he received at Morden’s hands, but we know the experimentation that he instructed to be carried out on him; the gender realignment of his sexual organs. Those, and the aconite in his system, will have changed him, and from what Mr Qadir has told us, Mr Lunsford had become a very obedient pet to their ‘Master’.”

“He’ll need support, and patience, if he is to recover even some of his former self,” Yellow Wolf adds.

“And that’s what he is going to get,” Stiles states emphatically, his resolve to help Stephen etched in determined lines across his forehead.

  
  
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦  
∞  
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦  
  
  


“Hey, what happened to the lunch you were bringing me?” Stiles shouts at Derek from the doorway into Danny’s room; he finds Scott, Isaac, and Jackson there too.

“I brought you a sandwich, but you were asleep,” Derek smirks as he replies.

“So, where’s my sandwich?” he asks as he closes the door, “And what kind of sandwich?”

“Turkey, ham, and pastrami, with mayo, on rye,” Derek informs him, “And your mom ate it before she and Braeden went to talk with Parrish.”

“Fuck,” Stiles opens the door and walks back out in search of his mom.

  
  
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦  
∞  
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦  
  
  


“What was that about?” Jackson asks.

“Leave it to Stiles to sort out,” Derek tells him.

“Is Parrish in trouble for bringing Stiles to save us?” Scott forcefully asks, rising from the chair he was sitting on.

“More likely he’s in trouble for taking Stiles into danger,” Jackson says, “I overheard some talk about the council not planning on coming after us.”

“Enough,” Derek roars, softening his voice as he continues, “Leave it to our alpha to deal with.”

  
  
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦  
∞  
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦  
  
  


Stiles tracks down his mom and Parrish by scent, by Parrish’s scent. He became familiar with the hellhound’s scent while trapped in the car with him on the way to recover his pack; the smell of forest pine and ash, with an undertone of sulphur. He’s not sure he’d recognise his mom’s scent unless they were in the same room.

It’s walking along one of the long white corridors in what used to be the WERES wing of the hospital that he momentarily loses the scent. He has to double back, retracing his steps until he picks it up again outside a door. There’s no sound coming from the other side of the door, and then he realises that the rooms in this corridor must be soundproof; so that WERES could ensure no werewolf outside the rooms could overhear what was happening inside.

“ **…you deliberately put my son in danger!** ” Stiles’s mom is roaring at Parrish as he opens the door; the three of them, Parrish, Braeden, and Claudia, turn to look at him as he enters and closes the door behind him.

“So, mom, is there any of the sandwich Derek got me for lunch left, or did you eat it all?” he asks sitting himself next to Parrish.

“Stiles, this isn’t the time,” Claudia states, “This is council business…”

“Derek said you wanted to ‘talk’ to Jordan, but this seems more like an interrogation,” Stiles interrupts her, “So, shouldn’t he have his alpha, or his lawyer, present?”

“He’s not a werewolf,” Braeden snaps.

“No, but he is still entitled to be accompanied, or have legal representation, while he’s being, rather aggressively and prejudicially, ‘questioned’,” Stiles forcefully reminds them, “So, if Jordan has no objections, I will stay. He helped me save my mates and pack, I’m more than happy to support him.”

Stiles can see from the look on his mom’s face that she can’t believe what she’s hearing; so, her next words don’t surprise him.

“ **He kidnapped you. He drugged you and took you across the border against your will, putting you in danger of being** …”

“ **Do you really think for one minute that I was going to leave half my pack in WERES hands? I was going to go and try to get my mates and my pack back, on my own if I had too,** ” he cuts off her argument, “And from what I hear I would have had too; the werewolf council weren’t willing to send another team for a second attempt, and you didn’t have a plan to save them. Parrish did, and he succeeded.”

“His plan was extremely risky,” Braeden adds.

“It was a risk I was willing to take,” Stiles bluntly tells them, and he can tell from the looks on their faces that he doesn’t need to add ‘and I’d do it again’, “So, if Jordan has no objections to my presence, as witness in lieu of legal representation, can we get started?”

“I have no objections to Alpha Stilinski of Beacon Hills bearing witness,” Parrish formally states.

“I’m Alpha Stilinski of Beacon Hills, Stiles is…” Claudia starts to correct him.

“The werewolf council may have ‘given’ you Beacon Hills as your territory,” Jordan interrupts her, “But the land recognises Stiles.” Stiles recognises the truth of Parrish's words; he's never felt like an outsider in another alpha's territory, like he's overheard other werewolves talk about. Beacon Hills is his territory, his land, but how...

“Just what does that mean?” Braeden asks, sparing Stiles from doing so as he quickly closes his mouth.

“There are forces greater than the werewolf council,” Parrish intones in a way that makes Stiles think he should have prefaced it with ‘much to learn you still have, my young padawan’.

“Who?” Braeden pushes, “Who thinks they can overrule the Alliance Council? Is this some ploy by the Union? Are you still working for them?”

“I was never working for them,” the hellhound states, “And I never said the Alliance Council, I said werewolf.”

“He works for SPECTRE,” Stiles interjects.

“SPECTRE is a myth,” Claudia asserts, “The Council of Thirteen is too fractured for it to be real.”

“What the hell is spectre?” Braeden stands, her arms crossed over her chest, as she looks down at Parrish and Stiles.

“The super supernatural council’s black ops team,” Stiles tells her.

“That’s not exactly accurate,” Parrish amends Stiles’s statement, “But essentially true. We are given a job, and have full autonomy in how we complete it.”

“So, it’s this supernatural council that thinks it can overrule the Alliance…” Braeden sneers.

“No,” Parrish interrupts her, “The werewolves pulled out of the council a long time ago, when they started to run their territories like the mundanes; wealth and being a member of the ‘right’ pack, buying political power and privilege. We still tried to protect them from the mundanes and ensure that the supernatural world stayed hidden. But they moved further from their roots, territories were no longer decided by the land itself, but bought and sold at the council’s whim; for political or personal gain. Werewolf incidents requiring us to hide them from the mundane world became more frequent. Then the news anchor incident occurred.”

“The ‘news anchor incident’, that’s what you’re calling it?” Braeden snarks at Parrish, “Your spectre teams sure did a lot to cover that up?”

“Actually, they did,” Parrish says, “Just not successfully; thanks to the stupidity of the werewolves involved.”

“And thanks to Argent and the other hunters,” Stiles adds.

“The Council decided the priority was keeping the mundanes from uncovering the rest of the supernatural world; the werewolves were on their own. We were allowed to help where we could, but not where it would put any other supernatural at risk,” Parrish states directly to Claudia.

“So, what’s changed?” Claudia asks.

“Three years ago, the Supernatural Council became aware that WERES knew of the existence of other therianthrope races, and…”

“Three years ago?” Claudia shouts over Parrish’s explanation, “The Alliance was born out of the struggle, sweat, and blood of the innocent, fighting for survival two years ago? Where was the council’s support and help then? Where was their help in the fight we’ve had ever since?”

“And,” Parrish continues, “We discovered that they had known about them for decades. They were leaking information out of their SLA and AP offices to the other WERES companies around the globe about ‘new’ races; while, in reality, they had been working with Newman-McMahon Corporation since the inception of the werewolf enslavement bill to genetically alter therianthropes to ensure they always showed some physical characteristic of their animal.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you did nothing to help the Alliance,” Claudia confronts him.

“We did; you just didn’t know about it,” Parrish counters, “SPECTRE has agents across every continent and in every human agency. The werewolves left the supernatural world centuries ago, you forgot about us; direct contact and intervention was not an option, but getting uniforms and weapons supplied to the Canadian Human and Werewolf Alliance, ensuring recognition of the Alliance at the United Nations, supplying the Union with false information on the Alliance, and supplying the Alliance with accurate information on the Union… those were things we could do.”

“It was the Canadian government that supplied the CHAWA militia,” Parrish smirks at Braeden’s assertion.

“They were too concerned about any reprisals against them for the attacks coming across the border, why would they have arranged the supplies to make such an attack possible?” Parrish asks, “SPECTRE arranged for the surplus uniforms to be altered, we arranged the weapons and equipment through several countries, and ensured that none of it could be traced back to any nation; ensuring that they all had plausible deniability. There have been other council races living and working with you; feeding you information and feeding WERES plausible lies. We lobbied the UN, persuaded them of the turning tide of public opinion, convincing them that co-operation and co-habitation was the way forward rather than an all-out war between humanity and the lycanthropes and ‘whatever else might exist’. When WERES announced the werecats and werefoxes, it only served to make some of the governments more nervous about the prospect of a larger supernatural world turning against them…”

“That’s why the coyotes, cougars, and bears were part of the attack on the base,” Stiles suddenly realises, “Proving that there are even more races to the mundanes, I mean humans,” he corrects himself.

“WERES made it clear that there are more supernatural races out there. The mundanes are the majority of the world’s population, but now they are beginning to realise that the supernatural is bigger than they believed; soon they will realise that there are races that will not be subdued like the werewolves were. We can’t hide anymore, and they need to know if we’re pushed, we will push back; harder.”

“Your ‘pushing back harder’ has currently left the Union pointing the finger at the Alliance for the attacks across the world, and specifically the one in Idaho where Morden was killed,” Claudia accuses.

“Then maybe it’s time that the werewolves rediscovered the old ways they abandoned and returned to the supernatural fold,” Parrish smiles at her. No-one mistakes it for a friendly smile.

“Maybe you should tell us just what SPECTRE can do for us,” Claudia insists.

“SPECTRE answers only to the Supernatural Council, not any individual race,” Parrish clarifies, “But that doesn’t mean we can’t help each other out while you renegotiate your membership.”

“An alliance between the other supernatural races and the Alliance Republic would be beneficial,” Claudia states, “And I will need to talk with your superiors to work out the details of exactly how we go about that.” She stares coldly at Parrish as she continues, “But, let’s be very clear. I have every intention of seeing you held accountable for kidnapping my son and putting him in danger; of putting him in the hands of WERES. You will face the full and harshest justice that can be meted out.”

Stiles doesn’t like the sound of that.

  
  
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦  
∞  
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦  
  
  


Aiden leans back against the pillow on the hospital bed. His foot is itchy, only it can’t be; it isn’t there any longer. Along with the rest of his leg below the knee. His eyes turn to the TV screen as he tries to distract himself from the phantom itch. The news is on. Another story on the protests outside WERES offices in the Union; clips from video taken on mobile phones and uploaded to social media sites. The item moves to the White House press room; President Bachmann steps behind the podium. He turns up the volume.

“I can assure the people of the United States, neither I, nor my predecessor, have colluded with the Werewolf Enslavement Regulation Enforcement Services and Newman-McMahon Corporation with regards to the experimentation to create a hybrid human/werewolf super-soldier. These reports are fake news. They are nothing more than a seditious fabrication by fifth columnist traitors to our country….” 

He turns the volume back down. He’s not in the mood to listen to her lies. Looking across at the prosthetic leg and the pair of crutches that are leaning against the chair, he knows the physio will be bothering him to ‘practice’ soon. He’d rather sleep. 

They moved him to this hospital in Portland overnight; they were moving a lot of the patients from the hospitals near the border. He knows that somewhere in this hospital, on one of the other floors, was Stilinski and his pack. It reminds him of how he and his brother are still omegas; no alpha has emerged in the pack to take the place of Alpha Shappa. With no alpha, there is no pack.

“Hey, bro; how you doing?” Ethan greets him from the doorway.

“The hero returns,” he quips, earning him a less than amused sideways glance from Ethan.

“I’m no hero,” Ethan flatly states, “All I did was steer a boat.”

“And save the prodigal son and his pack, and pet.”

“Aiden,” Ethan warns him before changing the subject, “So, have you been practicing with these?” he asks, picking up the crutches and placing one under each arm begins to propel himself around the room.

“No, but I’m sure a doctor will be around soon to force me.”

“You know, this isn’t so difficult,” Ethan quips.

“Says the man with both legs intact. You try it with a piece of plastic strapped against the stump where the rest of your leg used to be and see how it feels.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have joked about it. I was just trying to…”

“Lighten the mood by joking at your amputee brother’s expense?”

“You know I wasn’t,” Ethan protests. He puts the crutches back beside the chair, before he continues, “You heard about Morden’s enslaved wolf?”

“The one that shot Pallin?” Aiden asks, at Ethan’s nod he continues, “What about him?”

“When we picked them up I heard how when Morden died Stiles ordered the guy to come with them, and he obeyed; like immediately. Even though Morden had him doped up on so much kibble additive he was totally imprinted on Morden.”

“What? I thought if they were that far gone they couldn’t function without the ‘master’ they had imprinted on?”

“Exactly, Deaton and the docs are trying to work out how Alpha Stiles got through to him so quickly. I overheard some talk that they think there something about how he became a werewolf that makes him…”

“What? The werewolf messiah? There’s nothing special about him.”

“Maybe not, but he could still be…”

“No. I am not asking him to be my alpha. I don’t need his pity.” Aiden shuts down that line of thought immediately.

“The rest of the pack is already talking to other packs. We need to…”

“Just shut the fuck up,” Aiden snaps; not that intended to, it’s just… everything.

“I’m going to get something to eat,” Ethan says heading to the door; he turns before closing the door behind him to add, “Just think about it.”

Aiden flops against the pillow in frustration.

  
  
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦  
∞  
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦  
  
  


“When and how?” Deaton hears the voice demand from behind him. He turns to face her.

“Hello Marin,” he greets his sister, “When did you arrive in Portland?”

“Alan!”

“Can you be more specific, when and how with regards to what?”

“The Beacon Hills nemeton,” she states, and he’s glad they are alone in the room.

“I became aware of it after the last full moon,” he informs her, “Alpha Stilinski took his pack out to a cabin in the preserve; the nemeton reacted to their presence in the area. I believe it must have started before then, possibly months ago.”

“None of the nemeta in werewolf territories have been active for centuries,” she stresses, “This has to be related to the NMC serum that has transformed him into a werewolf.”

“Or, it could just be him. We know the spark flowed from his paternal grandmother, to his mother and then to him, and it’s stronger in him than in any of his family line. Claudia lost the spark when she was bitten and became a werewolf; she didn’t think the spark would manifest in him. But it was there; she couldn’t sense it after her transformation.”

“Have you told him?”

“No. The Emissary Council wanted to wait and see if the spark was still active in him after his transformation.”

“And?”

“There is nothing to report, as yet.”

“And if there is?” she asks.

“That will be for the Council to decide,” he says.

“The Traditions should be informed, and the Moonspeakers; before the Wardens can take any unilateral action. You know only too well there are those in your Order who see him as a threat to your precious balance.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ### Excerpt from Chapter-07
> 
>   
>   
>  “No,” Stiles snarls at his mom as he abruptly rises from the chair, pushing it back, causing it to topple over, and slamming his palms down on the table between them, “No-one is going to do anything to MY hellhound. Is that clear?!” He stares down at his mom and Braeden, “Not you, not the Alliance Republic, not WERES, not SPECTRE, and not even the Supernatural Council that SPECTRE reports to.”  
> “One,” his mom snarls back, her eyes shining red, “I am the Alpha of Beacon Hills. I decide who faces prosecution. And two, since when are you his alpha?” It’s then that Stiles realises what he said; claiming Parrish as his without regard to the man’s wishes, but, it had felt right and true.  
> “Jordan,” he turns to the hellhound, Parrish looks directly at him, “Are you my hellhound?”  
>   
> 
> 
>   
>  **§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§**   
>    
> 
> 
> “I’m sorry,” Stiles says as they stand in the elevator heading back to the pack; he’s facing straight ahead at the doors, not even looking at Parrish.  
> “For?”  
> “I shouldn’t have just claimed you as pack in there; not without discussing with you if you wanted to be part of my pack.”  
> “Why did you?”  
> “Because it felt right,” Stiles turns to face him, “I… I felt like you were meant to be part of my pack and that I should protect you from them.”  
> “Thank you, Alpha,” Parrish replies, informing him, “It’s supposed to be the hellhound’s role to protect the pack; and enforce the alpha’s rules within the pack, keep pack mates out of trouble, and be aware of potential threats in the pack’s territory. Not that there’s been a hellhound in a werewolf pack for a very long time.”  
> “Enforce? Like a mob enforcer?” Stiles asks, stuck back on that part of what Parrish said.
> 
>  


	7. Chapter-07

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has not been proof read or edited; all mistakes are my own.  
>   
>   
> 
> 
>   
>  **§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§**   
> 

“ **No** ,” Stiles snarls at his mom as he abruptly rises from the chair, pushing it back, causing it to topple over, and slamming his palms down on the table between them, “No-one is going to do anything to **MY** hellhound. **Is that clear?!** ” He stares down at his mom and Braeden, “ **Not** you, **not** the Alliance Republic, **not** WERES, **not** SPECTRE, and **not even the Supernatural Council** that SPECTRE reports to.” 

“One,” his mom snarls back, her eyes shining red, “I am the Alpha of Beacon Hills. I decide who faces prosecution. And two, since when are you his alpha?” It’s then that Stiles realises what he said; claiming Parrish as his without regard to the man’s wishes, but, it had felt right and true.

“Jordan,” he turns to the hellhound, Parrish looks directly at him, “Are you my hellhound?”

“Yes Alpha,” he replies. Stiles turns back to face his mom and Braeden.

“He’s only using your naivety to try and avoid the consequences of his actions,” his mom argues.

“One,” Stiles roars, letting his eyes turn and the full force of his alpha power loose, “You have no claim on Beacon Hills, you left. It’s my territory. And two, you left. I had to grow up real quick, and I’m not the naïve little boy you used to know; I’m not the heartbroken little boy who mourned at your funeral.”

“Stiles…” his mom begins, the shock of his words and his anger clear in the waver in her voice.

“This is over. My hellhound and I are out of here,” he heads to the door, leaving the room; certain that Jordan is following.

  
  
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦  
∞  
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦  
  
  


“I’m sorry,” Stiles says as they stand in the elevator heading back to the pack; he’s facing straight ahead at the doors, not even looking at Parrish.

“For?”

“I shouldn’t have just claimed you as pack in there; not without discussing with you if you wanted to be part of my pack.”

“Why did you?”

“Because it felt right,” Stiles turns to face him, “I… I felt like you were meant to be part of my pack and that I should protect you from them.”

“Thank you, Alpha,” Parrish replies, informing him, “It’s supposed to be the hellhound’s role to protect the pack; and enforce the alpha’s rules within the pack, keep pack mates out of trouble, and be aware of potential threats in the pack’s territory. Not that there’s been a hellhound in a werewolf pack for a very long time.”

“Enforce? Like a mob enforcer?” Stiles asks, stuck back on that part of what Parrish said.

“Not really, as I said before hellhounds guard the supernatural world from the mundane; where a werewolf pack had a strong connection with the Nemeton in their territory they sometimes had a hellhound guardian as part of the pack; a Sentinel. And, while the top beta, the alpha’s second, would be the right hand of the alpha; the hellhound would act as the left hand of the alpha. While the alpha’s second would greet visitors to the pack’s territory, it was the sentinel’s job to know why they were here, what kind of threat they posed, and every other detail possible about them before the second or the alpha met them.”

“So,” Stiles quickly processes what he’s being told, “While my second can be seen to be acting for me, my hellhound is like my own black-ops spymaster; they make sure what they do is unseen.”

“If that’s what you want, Alpha,” Parrish replies, “Though, your Sentinel doesn’t need to be a hellhound.” Stiles grins, before his demeanour turns serious.

“What’s a Nemeton and how does my pack have a connection to it?”

“Nemeta are sacred places of worship, usually a grove of trees with one sacred tree, designated the Tree of Life, within it,” Parrish explains, “The Nemeton in Beacon Hills was cut down by hunters several years ago.”

“Then how could I have a connection to it?” Stiles looks at him quizzically.

“Since you formed your pack, it has sprouted new growth,” the hellhound smiles at him, “About the time you got Derek pregnant.”

“So, before the Alliance, before my mom was made the alpha of Beacon Hills by the werewolf council,” Stiles semi-states, looking for confirmation. At Parrish’s nod he continues, “And that’s why the land choose me, why Beacon Hills is my territory not my mom’s.”

“Yes.”

“I have a lot of research to do, I need to know what else I don’t know,” Stiles declares with determination, “And you’re gonna help me.”

“Yes Alpha,” Parrish happily agrees.

They head to Danny’s room; Stiles is certain the rest of his pack will still be there, and he’s right. The pack turn to the door as they enter.

“Guys, you all know Jordan,” Stiles introduces him, “He’s now part of our pack; he’s my left hand.”

“Left hand?” Derek quickly enquires, a hint of concern in his voice, “Most packs don’t have a sentinel anymore.”

“He’s our pack protector, my Sentinel,” Stiles says, “And right now, he needs the pack’s protection. So, while I’m checking on Stephen and Zayn, and making arrangements to get us back home, do not let my mom or anyone from the Alliance, actually just don’t let anyone remove him from this room. I’ll be back as quickly as I can.”

  
  
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦  
∞  
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦  
  
  


Stiles goes in search of Deaton or Yellow Wolf; he finds them in the canteen with the werecat, Zayn Qadir.

“Docs,” Stiles greets them, “Are Stephen and Danny well enough to move back to Beacon Hills? Hi, Zayn.”

“Hi,” Zayn smiles back.

“They could be moved,” Deaton replies, “But your mother hasn’t requested…”

“Why would my mom have to request anything?”

“She’s the Alpha of Beacon Hills,” Deaton states, “She has to give permission for non-pack werewolves to be allowed into her territory.”

“Stephen is part of my pack,” Stiles growls, “She may have been appointed by the werewolf council as alpha of land she has no claim on, but, I am the Alpha of the Stilinski-Hale Pack and Beacon Hills is our territory and…”

“Why do you think Beacon Hills is your territory?” Deaton asks.

“Because the Nemeton is re-growing and the land chose me,” Stiles states, “So, I’m told; and, I feel it’s true.”

“Jordan Parrish is going to be in a lot of trouble,” Sargent Carter’s voice comes from behind Stiles; he turns to see her standing in the doorway.

“My Sentinel had every right to inform me, his Alpha…” Stiles begins.

“You claimed him as part of your pack?!” Yellow Wolf asks, and Stiles can see that the coyote is not the only one looking at him with a mix of shock and awe.

“Yes, and he accepted becoming a member of my pack. He is mine, my hellhound, my sentinel,” Stiles defiantly reiterates, “And no-one; not Alpha Claudia Stilinski, not the werewolf council, not SPECTRE, and not the Supernatural Council will take reprisals against him for the actions he took to save my mates and my pack from WERES. Or they will answer to me.”

“And how do you plan to get… everyone back to Beacon Hills without the Werewolf Council or you mom being involved?” Deaton asks.

“Well, Carter, Yellow Wolf, neither of you are werewolves, so I assume no connection to the werewolf council, but, maybe connections to the Supernatural Council…” Stiles looks between the two, “So, I was hoping one of you could help… oh, and Doc,” he turns to Deaton, “I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t mention any of this to the werewolf council or any member of the Alliance Republic Council that sits in Beacon Hills, or just any Alliance Republic Council actually.”

“You said you felt that it was true that Beacon Hills was your territory,” Deaton states, asking, “What did you mean by that?”

“It’s like I feel this tether, anchored in me and stretching out from me to each of the pack, and to Beacon Hills,” Stiles scrunches his face in thought, “Well, to the preserve, and spreading out from there.”

“I see,” Deaton comments. He looks from Stiles to Carter and Yellow Wolf.

“We’ll arrange your transport, for all of your pack,” Carter says.

“And I’ll arrange the hospital rooms for Mr Mahealani and Mr Lunsford,” Yellow Wolf states, “Ensuring that no werewolf personnel are involved in their transfer; I can get enough coyotes in to handle that and protect them once they get to Beacon Hills until you take them home.”

“Thanks,” Stiles beams, heading to the door to leave he turns and says to Zayn, “Oh, Zayn, you’re welcome to join us any time.” Then he heads on his way before the werecat can respond.

  
  
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“Will you be informing the Emissary Council?” Zayn asks Deaton, once he’s sure Stiles is out of earshot.

“Do you intend to inform the Nine Tribes?” Yellow Wolf enquires of Zayn.

“I think we all intend to let our respective councils know that there is a werewolf alpha following the old ways,” Carter states.

“It may be more prudent for me to discuss the matter with the Moonspeakers,” Deaton muses.

“But you’re a Warden of the Woods?” Carter questions him.

“But Alpha Stilinski of Beacon Hills’s decisions will have an impact felt by the Moonspeakers,” Deaton states, commenting under his breath, “And possibly the Traditions.”

“What do the Mages have to do with it?” Yellow Wolf asks.

“Possibly nothing,” Deaton states, realising he just let slip that Stiles may also still be a spark.

  
  
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“So, this is where the pity-party for one is,” Stiles words pull a growl from Aiden as he flicks his gaze from the TV to the alpha standing at the door. Stiles continues, “I mean, I was coming by to say how sorry I was about what happened to you, and to your alpha, but, then I overhear the doctors talking, you know humans, forgetting how well we can hear, right, anyway, I hear them saying how you refuse to talk with the counsellor, and you refuse to work with the physio, and you will not try using the crutches or the prosthetic, and you’re growling at your brother and giving him a hard time…”

“SO?!” Aiden snarls at the alpha, “What has got to do with you?”

“Nothing,” Stiles shrugs, “But, just when I’m thinking maybe you’re not as much of an asshole as I had been thinking you are, I then… well… you live down to my expectations of you…”

“I just lost half my fucking leg, and my alpha, my whole pack lost their alpha, and nobody became our alpha, I think I get some time to be fucking miserable about it!” Aiden roars at him.

“Absolutely, you do,” Stiles agrees, “But, I’m just surprised to find that you just want to give up and lay in that bed getting everything done for you and wallowing in self-pity.”

“I’m…”

“You’re what?” Stiles interrupts, “I get that unless they’ve lost a limb, then no-one knows what you’re going through. And yeah, that allows you some time to feel sorry for yourself and you need time to adjust too; there’s no way you can have gotten over everything that’s happened to you and your pack yet. But, that doesn’t mean you should be giving up. It clearly looks like you’re resigning yourself to being packless and not even willing to try learning how to use the artificial leg.”

“I…”

“How is that supposed to make your brother feel?” Stiles talks right over him, “Or have you forgotten that he saw your alpha die too? That he saw you get shot and nearly lost you? How is he coping? Do you know? Do you care?”

“I…” Aiden stops, “Of course I care!” 

“Really? See, I heard someone saying how you berated Ethan for talking about finding another alpha because ‘who’d want a three-legged wolf in their pack’. Well, a three-legged wolf still has a role to play in a pack; they can still contribute to the well-being of the pack,” Stiles stares down at the beta, “The reason a pack wouldn’t want you, is because you’re not looking at what you can do for your pack, you’re only contemplating what you think you can’t. You don’t even want to try, you’re too afraid of failing.”

“I am not!” Aiden snarls.

“Yeah, that’s why the prosthetic still hasn’t been used,” Stiles sneers. He turns and walks away, leaving Aiden filled with rage.

He walks along the corridor and heads towards the elevator. Ethan quickly catching up with him.

“Did I go too far?” Stiles asks the beta; keeping his voice low to avoid being overheard.

“Hopefully,” Ethan says, “It might spur him to actually try. He needs to stop just using the wheelchair, and start walking with the crutches and the prosthetic. He wasn’t listening to me or the doctors, so, someone he would want to prove wrong might do more than I could. Thanks for trying.”

“No problem,” Stiles smiles at him, clasping the beta’s shoulder, “After everything you two did more me and my pack, it’s the least I could do; despite your brother’s previous actions against Danny.”

When Ethan walks into Aiden’s room, he sees his brother sitting in the wheelchair, trying to fit the prosthetic.

“You want a hand with that?” he asks.

“Shut up,” Aiden grumbles, “I can figure it out.”

“We should get a doctor in to show you…”

“Just… fine,” Aiden relents.

  
  
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Stiles was surprised by how quickly Carter and the Docs arranged their move back to Beacon Hills. Less than four hours after asking, the pack were packing up their stuff in the hospital and three hours later they were being driven to his dad’s house. Well, Stephen, Danny and Jackson were at Beacon Hills Memorial. Stephen and Danny for final checks before they were allowed home, and Jackson because he wasn’t leaving Danny at the hospital alone. Not that he used those words, but, Stiles could read between the lines.

Once they left the hospital, Derek called Laura and let her know they were would be home in the next thirty minutes; asking her to bring Talia and James home. As the car gets closer to the house, Stiles can feel Derek’s growing excitement at being with their kids again, and Jordan’s rising dread.

“You know, I can stay at my place,” Jordan says, “It would…”

“Be dangerous,” Stiles states, “You’re staying with us in the den, until I have assurances that no-one is going to take any action against you.”

“What about your dad?” Jordan says, “He has a gun, and…”

“You’re a hellhound, I don’t think my dad’s bullets will kill you…”

“But, they’ll still hurt,” the hellhound reminds him.

“You’re staying with us,” Stiles states.

“Yes Alpha,” Jordan accedes.

They’re barely out of the car when the front door flies open and Stiles’ dad is almost running towards them, Laura running past him and wrapping her arms around Derek’s neck as she pulls him into a hug.

“Thank God you’re safe,” Stiles’ dad says pulling Stiles into bear hug. His eyes falling on Jordan standing behind Stiles, with Isaac and Scott. “What’s he doing here?” he asks.

“Because he’s staying in the den with the us,” Stiles stats, pulling out of the hug with his dad, “He’s part of my pack and until I know he’s safe from any reprisals for taking me to get my mates and pack members back from WERES, I’m keeping him where I know he’s safe.”

“Took you to get your pack back?” Stilinski senior states with incredulity, “You mean kidnapped you?”

“Jordan told me his plan and I agreed,” Stiles states, because it’s true, just not the whole truth, “And no-one else was going to help me get into Union territory and get Derek, Scott, Isaac, Jackson, and Danny back; were they? And you damn well know I’d have gone myself, no matter that there would have been little or no chance of me succeeding…”

“I… we…”

“No dad, the Alliance Republic, the werewolf council, didn’t want to risk it. My mates, my brother, Danny, they weren’t important to them. They are everything to me and I would not, I will not ever, abandon them. So instead of berating Jordan for taking me to the Union base where they were being held, you should be thanking him for having a plan that actually stood a chance of working and helping me get them back.”

“Thank you, Jordan, for saving my brother,” Laura says, giving him a hug and peck on the cheek.

“I… I was scared, I thought I had lost you, thought my grandkids had lost both their parents, I…” the sheriff can’t hold back the tears. Stiles pulls him back into his embrace.

“I know dad, but I had to get them back; you know I did,” Stiles sobs as his dad cries against his shoulder.

“I know,” his dad agrees, “I should apologise, Jordan. Thank you for getting them home.”

“It was always my intention, sir,” he smiles, “I’m just glad it all worked out.”

Heading inside, because Derek and Stiles are desperate to see Talia and James, they settle in the living room.

“Your mom called frantically a few hours ago, claiming that Jordan had kidnapped you and your pack again,” Stiles’ dad informs him as he’s cuddling and scenting James, while Derek feeds Talia.

“Don’t worry,” Laura says, “After Derek called I called her and let her know you were all here in Beacon Hills.”

“Damn!” Stiles exclaims.

“What?” his dad looks sternly at him.

“I didn’t like her threats against MY pack,” Stiles states firmly, “Trying to lord it over me like…”

“She’s the Alpha of Beacon Hills,” Laura states, “As an Alpha of my own pack I knows it’s difficult to…”

“She has no claim on my territory,” Stiles growls, only Derek’s hand on his knee stopping him from shifting and snarling in her face, “The werewolf council may have said she is the Alpha of Beacon Hills; I don’t recognise it having any right to parachute someone into a territory and proclaim them Alpha.”

“But that’s how it’s always worked,” Laura states, confusion and worry clear in her voice, “If they didn’t there would be packs fighting for territory all the time.”

“You can feel it, can’t you?” Stiles asks her, “That you’re in another alpha’s territory.”

“Yes, of course I do,” she replies, “And I can also feel that I’m welcome in the territory.”

“See, I don’t feel that,” Stiles replies, “I feel that it’s my territory. I’ve always felt that, even before I knew what it was; before Jordan explained it to me, because no werewolf explained it to me.”

“It had been so long since I felt it I didn’t recognise what it was,” Derek says, “I just felt like I was home, and I thought it was because my alpha was here.”

“Me too,” Isaac adds.

“I was bitten, I didn’t know about these things,” Scott shrugs.

“And no,” Jordan says, “The werewolf council never used to decide the territory that an alpha held. The Land itself did. And if there was ever a dispute the werewolf council would bring in arbiters from the Emissary Council; the Wardens of the Forest and the Moonspeakers, who would meet with the rival alphas at the Nemeton in the territory. The Emissaries would commune with the Nemeton and inform the Alphas of the Lands decision. The werewolf council then decreed based on the decision of the land.”

“I suspected that pack Emissaries had a council like the Werewolf Council, though no-one ever talked about it; but, what’s the Wardens of the Forest and the Moonspeakers, and who is the Nemeton they speak with?” Laura asks. Leading to Stiles starting to explain, and Jordan taking over when it gets to something his research and Jordan haven’t covered yet.

Once Laura and Glenn leave, everyone settles down for the night. The sheriff heads up to his bedroom, and the wolves take Jordan into their den. The rest of the pack are coming tomorrow. They were all desperate to see their alpha but, Stiles asked them to wait until after he picked up Jackson, Danny, and Stephen.

“Sorry, but you’ll need to sleep on the couch,” Stiles informs Jordan.

“That’s fine,” the hellhound replies.

“The bathroom is through there,” Stiles points in the direction, “And through here is where we sleep. We’ll see you in the morning,” he says, hugging the man and scenting him, which each of the others do too, before they head through to their bedroom.

They all settle down into their bed, each in their usual place; Scott, Isaac, Stiles, and Derek. But, Stiles can feel the slight distance between himself and Isaac, and Isaac and Scott. He needs to figure out what is wrong. He knows it’s because of what they have just been through while in WERES hands; he just doesn’t know exactly what the issue is or how to put things right. Tomorrow he must arrange for counselling. For all of them.

  
  
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Stiles is bleary-eyed and on his second cup of coffee. He was woken in the middle of the night by a telephone call. And was then on skype talking with representatives from The Therianthropic Congress, The Nine Tribes, The Emissary Council, The Magister College, and The Abyssal Courts.

So, it takes him a while to realise there’s someone at the front door. It’s only when his dad answers, opening the door, that he catches the scent. His mom.

By the time he’s walked from the kitchen to the dining room he’s surrounded by Derek, Scott, Isaac, and a half-naked Jordan.

“Scott, Isaac, go shower and dress,” Stiles tells them, “We’ve got things to do this morning.” He kisses them both on the lips, clasping a hand at the back of their neck and holding them to him before he lets them go to obey his command. Neither looks happy about it.

“Derek, the twins need fed and diapered,” Derek opens his mouth to protest leaving his side, but a stern look silences him. He kisses Derek passionately, before adding, “Jordan can help.”

“I should stay…” Jordan protests.

“I know protocol says that my second or you should be with me when meeting a visiting alpha,” Stiles pointedly states for his mom’s benefit, “But, on this occasion, I want my pack in the den, while I meet here in my dad’s house.” He’s pats Jordan’s chest before scenting him and sending him down to the den with Derek.

“Grzegorz, mój mały Tygrys,” his mom says, “You look tired; I expect your cubs are keeping you awake.”

“No, mom, I’m not your little tiger,” he determinedly states, “I haven’t been for a long time.” He stands behind a chair on the opposite side of the dining table from where his mom is standing, “Now, I don’t believe for one minute this is a social call. Shall we get to the reason you’re here, Alpha Stilinski.”

“Is it safe for me to leave you two to talk?” John Stilinski asks; he can feel the tension growing in the room and he doesn’t like it.

“John?” Claudia responds in shock, “How can you think that…”

“You’ve already threatened one of my pack, my Sentinel, and were trying to stop another of my pack entering my territory,” Stiles answers, “I was half expecting the doors to be knocked off their hinges and your stormtroopers lead by Braeden to be storming my den. So…” he shrugs his shoulders, “Take a seat,” he indicates the seat across from the one he’s still standing behind.

“I know we both said some… harsh things when we last talked,” his mom says pulling the seat out from under the table and sitting down, “But, I would never have allowed anyone to storm your home. And, on reflection the way we questioned Jordan Parrish was less than…”

“It was unacceptable,” Stiles interrupted.

“Professional,” Claudia continues, “I reacted more as a mother; letting my fear and worries over my son’s safety allow my instincts to control how I reacted. I should not have allowed my emotions to bias my reactions. I should have been acting as the Alpha of Beacon Hills and Leader of the Alliance Republic for Northern California…”

“I know you and dad were worried, I get that. I was worried about my mates and my brother and Danny; I know that feeling of helplessness and needing to do something to fix it,” Stiles softly states, “But,” his voice hardens, “Let’s remember, as I have stated before, when Jordan told me his plan I agreed to it. He helped me save my mates and my pack when no-one else would. And while I agree that you are the Leader of the Northern California Council for the Alliance Republic, you are not the Alpha of Beacon Hills. I am.”

“Stiles, I know what the hellhound has told you but that isn’t how it works,” Claudia tries to impress upon him, “The Werewolf Council assign the territories…”

“So,” Stiles leans across the table towards her, “You can sit there and calmly state that unlike Laura Hale and every other Alpha in Beacon Hills right now you don’t feel like your being tolerated inside another Alpha’s territory; you feel right at home, and not the slightest ill-at-ease?” he cocks an eyebrow, “Remember, I and everyone eavesdropping downstairs can hear when you lie.”

“I…” Claudia swallows down the words, unable to contradict her son’s words.

“Thought so,” Stiles coldly states, “I am the Alpha of Beacon Hills. This is my territory.”

“How do you propose we resolve this… conflict?” Claudia concedes.

“Your werewolf council acknowledges me as the Alpha of Beacon Hills, and as long as they and Alliance Republic don’t do anything that I disapprove of, and don’t do anything that affects my territory that I haven’t agreed to, then the Republic’s Northern California Council can continue to operate out of my territory,” Stiles states.

“Stiles, you’re still in school, you can’t expect the Council to run every decision past you before…” she’s begins to counter.

“I didn’t say they did,” Stiles cuts off her argument, “I said don’t do anything that I disapprove of, and don’t do anything that affects my territory that I haven’t agreed to; So, only decisions that affect my territory will need to be approved by me before being enacted. Anything that doesn’t affect my territory that I don’t approve of will just mean that the Republic will need to base its Northern California HQ outside of Beacon Hills.”

“I’ll take your proposal to the Council,” Claudia stands and stares across the table at her son, “I assume you’ll have no objections to the Republic working with the other supernatural councils; not that we have been able to make contact with them yet.”

“You can deal with the Council of Thirteen through me or my Sentinel,” he states, “They contacted me last night, it was my skype conference with the representatives of The Therianthropic Congress, The Nine Tribes, The Emissary Council, The Magister College, and The Abyssal Courts, that kept me up most of the night.” He sees her eyes widen as he lists off those he was talking with, and the flicker of recognition at two of the names; the Emissary Council and the Magister College.

“I’ll inform you of the council’s decision once it’s made,” she turns to leave.

“Mom,” Stiles calls to her as she walks to the door; she stops and turns to face him, “I’m…” he steps around the table towards her, “I’m not trying to hurt you or undermine you. You’re my mom, I love you. I missed you so much for so long, and… You’re the only one I could trust to help me when I didn’t know what I was doing, if I was really a wolf or if trying to give the bite to Boyd would just kill him. I love you and I need my mom, but, I’m the Alpha of Beacon Hills, I have to do what’s right to protect my pack and my territory; you get that, right?” He holds back the tears in his eyes at the fear of losing his mom all over again, before they’ve even really got to know each other.

She steps towards him, pulling him into her embrace.

“Of course, mój mały Tygrys,” she tells him, her words warm and damp against his cheek with her own unshed tears. 

John Stilinski stands to the side, watching his son and wife, his eyes damp with emotion as they hold each other; knowing that both fear they are slipping from each other’s lives.

  
  
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Arriving at the hospital to pick up Jackson, Danny, and Stephen, Stiles finds his brother and slave sitting silently in the same room. Once he walks in Jackson abruptly stands, scraping the chair across the floor.

“Let’s go,” Jackson says, not even looking at Danny.

Stiles looks to Danny for explanation, but his slave just casts his eyes down to the floor.

“I’ve got to go get Stephen,” Stiles calls after Jackson.

“I’ll wait in the car,” Jackson shouts back; Danny is running to catch up to him, not saying a word to either of them.

When Stiles walks into Stephen’s room there is no sign of him, or that the bed has been slept in. He’s about turnaround and go search for a nurse or doctor when he hears the soft cry from under the bed.

“Alpha?”

“Stephen?” Stiles kneels, lowering his head down and looking under the bed he finds the beta curled up naked, his eyes red rimmed and cheeks tear streaked, “What are you doing under here?”

“Alpha? You came back?” the beta asks.

“Yes,” Stiles smiles at him, “I’m here to take you home.”

“Home?”

“Yes, my home, where I live with my mates, and my dad, and my brother…”

“And I’ll get to stay?”

“Sure, I said that yesterday, didn’t I?”

“I… I thought when I woke, and you weren’t here, I thought you changed your mind and didn’t want me,” Stephen sniffles.

“You’re MINE,” Stiles flashes his eyes at him and Stephen’s flash amber in response. Stiles realises how possessive and domineering he was being with the man, a man that he wants to learn to be independent, at least as much as possible and adds, “Unless you don’t want to be in my pack?”

“Alpha,” Stephen whines, clambering to get close to Stiles, “I want to be yours.”

“Come on then,” Stiles smiles, pulling the beta to him and scenting him; he feels Stephen relax against him as he rubs his cheek against him and the beta breathes in his scent. “Let’s get you dressed.” He stands, pulling Stephen up with him and looks around for the set of clothes they dressed him in for the plane ride from Portland. “Where are your clothes?”

“She took them?”

“Who?” Stiles asks, only to receive a confused look in response. “Okay, I’m gonna go…”

“Nooo, please Alpha, please don’t leave me,” Stephen whines in fear, clinging to his alpha.

“I’m only going to go ask where your clothes are and then I’ll be right back as soon as I have them,” Stiles tries to assuage the beta’s worries but, Stephen just buries is nose into the crook of Stiles’ neck. 

Stiles debates with himself his next move. The nurses’ station is only just a few feet away from the room. They are in a corridor that doesn’t have a lot of other patients, so, there shouldn’t be many if any other people out there.

“Okay, come on, we’ll go and try to find your clothes together,” Stiles tells him, wrapping an arm around Stephen’s waist and guiding him, slowly out the room door. Stephen barely seems to care that he’s naked, and it chafes at Stiles’ sensibilities to know it’s because of his treatment at the hands of Morden.

Walking towards the desk, Stiles notices the familiar face that has just arrived.

“Mama McCall,” he calls in greeting.

“Stiles,” she responds looking pointedly at Stephen, “You know, patients don’t normally leave their room naked.”

“Yeah, I just had a little difficulty getting him to remain in the room by himself while I came out to ask where his clothes are,” he replies. 

“Not used to…” the beta half-answers.

“Not used to what?” Stiles pushes.

“Master never allowed me to wear clothes, so, I’m not used to them; they make me feel itchy,” he answers.

“Yeah, well, one, never refer to Morden as Master again; douchebag or asshole are acceptable. And, two, we’ll get you some clothes that don’t irritate you too much, okay?” Stiles informs him.

“Yes, Alpha,” he quickly replies.

Melissa looks at the patient notes, and sees a comment written.

“It says here that he had a heavy flow, and because there was no pad or tampon the discharge soaked into his underwear and pants, so his clothing was sent for laundry,” she reads aloud. Looking at Stephen she asks, “How are you feeling? Is there any cramping or discomfort?” The beta buries his head into the crook of Stiles neck, trying to hide.

“Hey big guy,” Stiles coaxes him to answer, trying to soothe his discomfort by sliding his hand up and down his back, “Are you in any pain? Does it still hurt? Mama McCall is like family and just wants to help.”

“A little sore, not like yesterday,” the whispered reply can just be heard.

“I’ll find out where his clothes are, and get a doctor to prescribe something for the pain; werewolf medication is not something I can prescribe,” Melissa informs them, “And I’ll get a pad or tampon; do you know where in your cycle you are?”

Stephen just whines.

“Is this the first time this has happened since douchebag had you operated on?” Stiles asks.

“Yes, Alpha,” comes the shaky reply.

“Well,” Melissa says, “Let’s get you what you need, and Stiles can get you home.” As Stiles leads Stephen back into the room, they hear Melissa paging Doctor Yellow Wolf.

  
  
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The whole pack had shown up before Stiles got home from the hospital with Jackson, Danny, and Stephen. Lydia, Allison, and Mason hugging him, Jackson, and Danny, just as much as his betas; once they could get to them. Erica, Boyd, and Jacob had practically launched themselves at him as he walked through the door. The betas all needing the reassurance from their alpha and desperately needing to be scented. Liam had held back, wanting, needing his alpha, and scared of that connection and need at the same time. 

Stiles introduces Stephen as the latest werewolf beta of the pack, and Jordan as the hellhound of the pack. He then informs them of Jordan’s role as Sentinel, and outlines what the role entails and how it differs from Jackson’s role as his Second.

“If everyone knows he’s your Sentinel,” confusion is written on Scott’s face as he asks, “How will people not know he’s getting information for you?”

“Because they won’t know I’m getting the information,” Jordan answers, when Scott looks like he is about to argue the point, the hellhound adds, “I’m a hellhound, we can be invisible and unseen, until we attack, if we want to be.”

“That’s… so cool,” Mason enthuses. The rest of the pack looking impressed but, trying to temper or hide their awed reaction.

“So, now you’re all agreed that Jordan has cool superpowers,” Stiles demands his pack’s attention, “I’ve arranged for sessions with the counsellor at the Alliance Centre for all of us that were in the Union base,” he tells them, “I’ve also arranged a session for each of you that was still here, and if after the first session you want to talk with the counsellor again, then we can arrange that.”

“What if we don’t want to talk to a counsellor?” Scott asks.

“It’s not up for debate Scotty,” Stiles declares, “Everyone in this room will be attending at least one session. You, Isaac, Derek, Jackson, Danny, Stephen, and me, will all be attending sessions until I state otherwise.”

Once the pack have accepted the inevitability of the counselling, they settle down to watch a movie.

“Hey,” Stiles comments, “Is that a new TV? It looks bigger…” his words trail off as Liam let’s out an involuntary whine of distress.

“There was an accident…” Lydia starts saying.

“I broke it, I lost my temper when WERES captured you, and…”

“It’s fine,” Stiles says, reaching over and ruffling Liam’s hair before his hand settles firmly on the back of the beta’s neck. Stiles can feel the beta relaxing into his touch, “If I’d been here and just found out that any of you had been taken it would probably have been me that lost my temper and broke it.”

The pack all settle back into the tangle of bodies across the sofas and floor, everyone huddled close to their alpha as they watch the action on the screen. Contentment, pack, family, home, flowing back and forth through the pack bonds. But Stiles still feels a distance seeping into the wounds within his pack that WERES and recent events have created.

He’s determined that the sessions with the counsellor will heal them.

  
  
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦  
∞  
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦  
  
  


President Bachmann scans the reports in front of her. They make depressing reading. Opinion polls often do. The scandals and fall out from the WERES debacle are dragging her, her administration, and her party down with them.

There are protests in every major city in every state. People claiming that they have been lied to by career politicians that care only for their position and wealth and not about the American people they are supposed to serve, that the system is crooked and fixed, and demanding the truth. When it comes to slave-pets that’s just… WERES controlled all the information about them; WERES also ensured that any the politicians they wanted were the ones in power, passing the laws they wanted. Giving WERES the power to do what they wanted.

She looks across at her newly appointed, WERES approved, Vice-President.

“So, John, any suggestions on what we do about this mess?” she asks. John Boehner looks up from the papers he’s reading.

“Well, what do WERES want us to do?” he asks.

“Ha!” she barks out a laugh, “WERES are too busy trying to stop themselves falling apart with Morden dead; no-one else there knows half of what he was doing or what he knew. Right now, they haven’t a clue and don’t care about the shit-storm they’ve left us in.”

“I…” Boehner stops talking as the door opens and a young man walks in.

“Who the hell…?” Bachmann starts.

“President Bachmann, Vice-President Boehner,” the man smirks, “Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Richard Vaughn, the new head of TED; I worked very closely with the late Mr Morden, and I’ve just be confirmed as his replacement. Now, shall we get to work and put a stop to these protests…”

“Just how do you suggest we address the people’s grievances?” Bachmann asks.

“Social media is wonderful platform for placating the masses,” Vaughn smiles at her, “So simple to get people to believe what you want, and brand everything else fake news. You don’t even need evidence or prove any facts; just tell them it’s true.”

“You believe the American people are that gullible?”

“Not all,” Vaughn admits, “But, enough will believe it and they will be vocal enough to drown out any dissenting voices. How do you think we got your party control of both houses in the last election? Now, ready to start work?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ### Excerpts from Chapter-08
> 
>   
>  Danny insisted he wanted Stiles to be at their joint counselling session; becoming very distressed as the date drew closer until Jackson agreed.  
> Jackson hadn’t wanted his brother there; Stiles being there would make it harder for him to avoid saying something he didn’t want to.  
> Now, the three of them are sitting on the couch in the counsellor’s office; Stiles sitting between him and Danny and the counsellor sitting in the chair across from them.  
>   
> “So,” Doctor Lightman begins, “This was originally arranged as a session with only two of you; Danny why don’t you tell us why you felt that Alpha Stilinski-Hale needed to be present too?”  
> “I…” Danny falters, he knows he’s going to have to be truthful, everyone else in the room is a werewolf and can tell when he lies, “I wanted Master here because… because he… I think he knows why I don’t want to be given the bite…” Jackson growls at Danny’s words, remembering how he felt as he held him in the back of the truck as they escaped from the base.  
> “Jackson, shush,” Stiles admonishes him, “If you stopped and thought about it…”  
> “I already know how little he thinks of werewolves…” Jackson tries to snarl, but the hurt he feels is there in his voice.  
>   
>   
> 
> 
>   
>  **§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§**   
> 
> 
> Later that night, Jackson is staring at the ceiling of his bedroom, the covers of the bed draped loosely over him. He can hear Danny breathing from the corner of the room and knows he isn’t asleep either.  
> “I can practically hear you thinking, keeping me awake,” he complains, knowing it’s his own thoughts keeping him from sleeping. “What’s wrong?”  
> “Nothing, Sir,” Danny replies, “Sorry.”  
> “We both know that’s a lie,” Jackson reminds him, “So, try again. What’s wrong? Why aren’t you sleeping?”
> 
>  


	8. Chapter-08

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is unbeta'd and all mistakes are my own.  
> Hopefully regular readers will enjoy it anyway...  
>   
> 
> 
>   
>  **§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§**   
> 

Isaac frowns as he looks down at his hands. Sitting in the waiting room with the rest of the pack he can feel the tension in the air. Stiles had insisted that everyone be here to arrange their sessions with the counsellor. Isaac just isn’t sure that it will fix everything.

It’s not like he hasn’t noticed how little Scott wants to touch him since they got free from the WERES base, and it’s not like he can totally blame him. He’s the reason that they treated Scott the way they did; if Scott hadn’t tried to protect him then Scott would never have been used as a urinal by all those soldiers, and his dad.

He thought maybe that things would get better once they were back home. But they’re not. Scott still keeps his distance in bed. Even their alpha is not following their routine. He’s not replaced their collars, not even Danny’s, he’s not spanking them in the morning, he’s not… nothing is returning to normal and he doesn’t believe that each of them talking to a counsellor is going to fix that.

“I’m Doctor Lightman,” the man’s words pull Isaac from his doubts, “And for most of you I will be talking to you one on one. Those are the sessions that I want to arrange first.”

Isaac sits while the Doc goes through the pack one by one scheduling a session with each of them, until there is only him, Scott, Derek, Jackson, Danny, and their alpha left.

“Now, Alpha Stilinski-Hale was most insistent that you all had joint sessions,” the Doc informs them, “Mr Stilinski and Mr Mahealani, Mr McCall and Mr Lahey, and Derek and Grzegorz Stilinski-Hale…”

“What?!” Jackson leaps from the seat, “Why?”

“Because it needs to be,” Stiles states, letting his alpha-ness bleed to the surface to subdue Jackson’s outburst.

“There will then be a joint session with all of you,” Doctor Lightman informs them, “And additional couple sessions,” Jackson bristles at the words, “Which will include sessions for Mr McCall, Mr Lahey, and both Stilinski-Hale; given the nature of your relationship.”

“If any of you want individual sessions, you can arrange them too,” Stiles informs them, “But these joint sessions will be attended, and I expect you to be there for the full session and be truthful.”

“That’s not exactly how therapy works…” Lightman starts to counter Stiles statement.

“How would not being truthful help?” Stiles asks.

“That’s not what I meant,” Lightman clarifies, “I mean you can’t force people to participate; that doesn’t work.”

“I didn’t say they would participate, I said they would attend, and be truthful,” Stiles corrects him, “If they sit in silence for the ninety minutes, then that’s what they do. But, these sessions will continue until I believe they have been successful.”

“Alpha Stilinski-Hale, can I have a word in private,” Lightman more than asks as everyone is leaving.

“I’ll meet you guys in the lobby downstairs,” Stiles informs his pack and turns back to face the doctor. “If this is about me trying to force my pack into therapy…”

“Partly,” Lightman interrupts him, “It is also about the stunt you pulled with a patient of mine, Aiden Carver.”

“Stunt?” Stiles snorts, “I wasn’t pulling a stunt. His brother was worried and I…”

“I’m well aware of his brother’s concern; however, as I had informed him, he needed to give his brother time. Loosing a limb is not something that can be resolved, either emotionally or physically, in less than a week; something that both he and you seemed to overlook...”

“No Doc, it’s not something that was overlooked,” Stiles interrupts Lightman’s rant, “I never told him he should be over losing his leg already. I told him that he had every right to feel angry about it, but, that he shouldn’t be thinking it makes him worthless to a pack and that he should be at least trying to learn how to walk with the artificial leg.”

“Your confrontation with him could have backfired and had the very opposite effect from the one you intended; in this instance you were lucky,” Lightman insists, “I know that your intention was to help him, just as your insistence that your pack attend counselling after what they have been through is to help them, but, and I cannot stress this enough, people heal differently. They each process their emotions differently. Just because you, or Ethan Carver, want them to heal now will not make it so. Counselling will only work when the patient is ready to allow it to work.”

“I do realise that,” Stiles states; trying not to grind his teeth.

“Good,” Lightman eases up in the sternness of his expression, “In which case I want you to amend your stance with your pack…”

“To?”

“That they will attend sessions only for as long as I believe that it is beneficial to them,” Lightman states.

“Okay,” Stiles agrees, “I can go with that.”

  
**♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦  
∞  
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦**

  


“Alpha Stilinski,” Laura formally greets Stiles as he steps into the council chambers, closely followed by Jackson. The pack would not allow him to attend the meeting alone; he finally relented and after consulting with Jordan agreed that his second would accompany him.

“As Derek and I are mates we are going by Stilinski-Hale,” Stiles informs her, adding, “Plus, it will cut down on the confusion of which Alpha Stilinski you’re referring to.”

“Well then, Alpha Stilinski-Hale,” she smiles, “The council members, and representatives from the Werewolf Council will seat themselves on that side of the conference table; you and your second…”

“Sorry I’m late,” a voice interrupts them, “Allow me to introduce myself, I’m Isabella Novak; I’m here as Alpha Stilinski-Hale’s legal counsel.”

“Do I need legal counsel?” Stiles asks.

“The Thirteen thought it wise,” Isabella replies, “Though I think it is… premature on their part. Still, having back-up is never a bad thing,” she grins.

“What are you?” Jackson abruptly asks, his nose wrinkling with aversion at her scent.

“You mean other than a lawyer?” she smiles, while Stiles hisses at him, “Jackson, I’m not sure that’s polite.”

“I know she’s not human,” Jackson replies to Stiles, “And she smells… dead.”

“And I thought I’d covered it up with Calvin Klein,” she laughs, “I answer to the Convention of Thorns…”

“A vampire?!” Stiles exclaims, adding, “Camarilla I assume?” Laura is about to chastise Stiles for believing in vampires, but Isabella speaks first.

“Ooh, someone has been doing their research,” she smiles at him, “I doubt any werewolf told you about our councils.”

“I think most werewolves weren’t even aware of their own council, or the existence of other supernaturals until recently,” Stiles replies, “And I rely on my Sentinel for most of what I know about non-mundane races.”

“I thought vampires couldn’t be out in the daylight?” Laura asks.

“Only the very, very, old ones,” Stiles answers, “The newer kindred, like under a hundred years, can, and some up to around four hundred as long as they are well… sated.”

“Your level of knowledge is surprising,” Isabella comments, “And you didn’t get that from your hellhound.”

Before Stiles can reply, the werewolf members of the Alliance Republic’s Northern California Council enter the room, and everyone takes their seats. Laura moves to the NCC side of the room.

There are five alphas sitting across from Stiles, Jackson, and their vampire counsel. Stiles and Jackson only recognise three of them; Laura, Stiles’ mom, and Jonas Quinn. 

“Why is it always you that is upsetting the status-quo?!” Alpha Quinn snarls at Stiles before anyone has even been introduced, “Can’t you do the decent thing and rescind your false claim; the werewolf council has allocated territory for hundreds of years, and then you come along with notions of being chosen by the land. Are you trying to create conflict between werewolf packs? Don’t we have enough fighting to do; defending ourselves from the humans?”

“Alpha Quinn!” Claudia barks at the man.

“That’s a barefaced lie, and I and everyone else in here knows that!” Isabella lectures him, “Your council only started allocating territory in the early nineteen-hundreds, some eighty years before you all got yourselves enslaved…”

“Who the hell are you?!” Quinn shouts, “You’re not a werewolf, he should only have…”

“Do I need to cite section 11.26 paragraph 2, clause (b)?” Isabella interrupts his rant, “Of your own council’s rule of law, that clearly states that over any dispute brought before the council an alpha may be supported by his second and legal counsel. It does not say either of these needs to be a werewolf.”

“As Jackson is known to be Alpha Stilinski-Hale’s Second,” Laura intervenes, “You are here as his legal counsel.”

“Yes,” Isabella confirms, “The Council of Thirteen thought that he may need legal guidance and sent me as his counsel.”

“What are you?” Quinn demands.

“Oh, my, god,” Stiles exclaims, turning to Jackson he says, “See, that’s how rude you were being; you were being Alpha Quinn levels of douche-y rudeness.” As soon as the words have left his mouth, Stiles sees the shocked look on the faces of the alphas sitting opposite.

“STILES?!” Claudia scolds him.

“HOW DARE YOU!” Quinn rages, “This, this is the so-called alpha that we are supposed to hand the title of Alpha of Beacon Hills too? This rude child that should be…”

“ALPHA QUINN!” one of the unknown alphas roars, silencing the man; not that Quinn doesn’t turn a dagger-like glare at the other alpha. “We voted at the National Assembly, the council has decided this matter. Your views were heard then. You lost the vote.” Turning to Stiles the alpha continues, “Alpha Stilinski-Hale, on behalf of the Werewolf National Assembly, I inform you that we recognise you as Alpha of Beacon Hills.” Stiles resists the urge to punch the air at the news; mainly because Jackson is holding his right hand down under the table.

“Alpha Stilinski-Hale of Beacon Hills,” Claudia begins before Stiles says anything in reply, “On behalf of the Alliance Republic, I inform you that we agree to your terms of the Northern California Council remaining within your territory. This meeting is now concluded.”

Alpha Quinn sharply rises from his chair and storms from the room, grumbling about the wrongness of it all as he leaves.

“That was quicker than I expected,” Stiles says as everyone else rises from their chairs.

“I wonder how close the vote was?” Jackson ponders

“Alpha Quinn and his faction within the council lost by one vote,” the alpha that shouted Quinn down states.

“Allow me to introduce Alpha Herveaux of the Werewolf National Assembly,” Claudia introduces the man.

“Not of a territory?” Stiles muses.

“No,” Alpha Herveaux replies, “Most of the council members, like myself and Alpha Quinn, are displaced from what would be our territories; with said territories being in WERES controlled lands.”

“Oh, sorry,” Stiles exclaims, “I should have thought of that, I mean most countries still have WERES running their slave trade and so most alphas are… well the less said about what WERES is doing to them the better probably, so alphas having territory would be… difficult…”

“Very eloquent,” Jackson rolls his eyes.

“Hey,” Stiles jokes with him, “Is that any way to talk to your brother?”

“The same brother that compared me to Quinn?” Jackson retorts with a quirk of his upper lip.

“I must report back to the WNA that the transfer of Beacon Hills is complete,” Alpha Herveaux says, “But, I look forward to working with you Alpha Stilinski-Hale; not all of us on the council are unaware of the old ways, and we would like to see a return to how we used to be.”

“Call me Stiles,” Stiles tells him, “And, I’d like to hear more about what you know of the way things used to be, Alpha Herveaux.”

“Alcide, and I look forward to an exchange of knowledge, Stiles” he replies, shaking Stiles’ hand before leaving.

“Why do I think you just got our pack involved in an intra werewolf council power struggle?” Jackson comments, once Alcide has left.

“Because he has,” Claudia sighs, “One I have been carefully keeping my pack out of.”

“Ditto,” Laura agrees.

  
**♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦  
∞  
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦**

  


“Why do I need to decide?” Stiles asks, “This is an Alliance Republic issue, not a Beacon Hills issue.”

He’s sitting in the living room of the Stilinski house; Derek, Scott, and Isaac beside him. Jordan, Stephen, Jackson, and Danny are standing behind them. Across from them, his mom, dad, Braeden, Laura, and Isabella Novak; the vampire had to be invited in, something that Stiles only suspected would be true. Isabella is here as his legal advisor, which Jordan arranged for once they were informed this meeting was happening.

“Yes,” his mom agrees, “But, it’s more complicated than that.” She takes a breath, pausing to decide how to proceed when Braeden jumps in.

“You’re the Alpha of Beacon Hills, it was you and your pack he attacked, and he is being held here in Beacon Hills,” Braeden rushes out the explanation, “So, as per werewolf law, you have authority over what happens to Rafael McCall.”

Stiles feels his pack around him still at the actual mentioning of the name. Jackson, Danny, Isaac, and Scott are obviously affected most; but, even Stephen and Derek perceptibly hold their breath for a heartbeat. Only Jordan is calm; and from previous conversations Stiles knows why.

“Let him rot in jail,” Scott’s growl is barely audible as he holds tightly to himself; Stiles wraps an arm around him and pulls him close and the beta instinctively seeks to press his nose against the alpha’s neck, just behind his ear, and comfort himself with his scent.

“Just what are the options here?” Stiles asks, “How does this work?”

“It’s simple,” Isabella says, informing him that, “Your options are whatever you come up with; in the past alphas have executed assailants for doing less than what Rafael McCall did to your mates. It works however you want it to; you are essentially judge, jury, and executioner if you want to be, or, you can have the Alliance Republic take care of the sentence you prescribe.”

“I want to see him and talk to him first,” Stiles states, “In his cell where he’s being held.”

“Are you sure?” his dad asks.

“Yep,” Stiles pops the ‘p’ as his demeanour darkens, “I want to tell the fucker to his face what I’ve decided is going to happen to him.”

It takes nothing more than a phone call for Claudia to arrange the meeting.

Stiles walks into the padded cell. Rafe is sitting cross-legged against the far wall, naked; he wasn’t expecting that.

“They didn’t tell me that you hadn’t been given any clothing,” he says, “Or, is it a personal choice?” Rafe doesn’t answer, doesn’t even look at him. 

“Nothing to say? That’s okay, I can talk for the both of us if I have to. Apparently, as I’m the Alpha of Beacon Hills, your fate is in my hands.” That gets a reaction, a quick glance up of his eyes. 

“Thought that would interest you,” Stiles smiles down at him, “And,” he continues, “Under the laws of the Werewolf National Assembly, which predates the Alliance Republic, just so you know, as the aggrieved party and that you’re being held in my territory, I get to decide what your punishment is.”

“So, you’re here to kill me,” Rafe huffs a defeated laugh.

“That’s one option,” Stiles confirms, “Another is that you stand trial for espionage and crimes against the Alliance Republic, which would result in your execution. Another that we negotiate with the Union for a prisoner exchange but, they don’t seem to care about you.”

Rafe flinches as Stiles gets down on one knee at his side and leans in close to his ear.

“Someone suggested that I should give you the bite, see if you survive,” the sour note of fear floods the man’s scent, “And, if you did, make you an omega and send you back across the border.” Rafe visibly shakes at the suggestion.

“But, then someone else suggested that if you turned, I should keep you, make you the pack whipping boy and fuck post. The bottom rung of the pack to be used by everyone for whatever they wanted. Bend you over the nearest surface and fuck your ass or mouth. Can you imagine that?” Stiles asks, and he knows he is from the change in his scent, and the plumping of his less than soft cock, “Can you practically feel the spongy head of my, Jackson’s, Scott’s, or maybe Jordan’s cock on your tongue? How do you think we’d taste? Maybe you’d prefer if we fucked your ass; would you like it hard and pounding?” Stiles smirks as he looks down at the man’s hardening cock, “I can tell you do like the sound of that. You’d like it if we held you down and forced you to take it wouldn’t you?

“Shut up!” Rafe snarls, trying to curl in on himself.

“Yeah, you’d love to be held down and…” before Stiles finishes, Rafe swings out at him but, not quickly enough. Stiles wolfen reflexes allows him to grab the man’s fist and pull him up, turn him around and lock both his arms behind his back; Rafe’s hips jutting out in front, clearly showing his hard, dripping cock. “Not been getting any in the week you’ve been here? Look how much just thinking about some young hard bodied guy dominating you has got you.”

Rafe struggles in Stiles’ hold, achieving nothing more than to swing his hard length around in front of him.

“You know, I wasn’t sure my hellhound was right when he told me about you but,” Stiles smirks, “Just look at you, and now that scent when you were in the back of the truck makes so much more sense. I thought it was just you weren’t as straight as you played but, it’s that you liked the idea of some hard-bodied younger man forcing you. All those things you had done to my pack in that camp were things you wanted done to you.” 

Rafe shakes his head in denial, until Stiles grabs him by the hair and forces his head to still; his cock remaining hard.

“Yeah, I bet you’d love for me to take a cane, or flogger, or whip, or belt to your back, ass and thighs. Mark you as much as you had done to Isaac,” Stiles lets the venom of his anger drip from every word, “Or bend you over and lock you in position as one after another my pack used your ass or mouth. Just as you had those soldiers use my brother, Jackson. And tell me, did you have a dog back in the Union, one trained to fuck your ass as hard and relentlessly as you wanted some guy to do? I mean, where did you know to get a hold of dogs trained to do that sort of thing for what you did to Danny? Did you get hard and jack off imagining it was you taking doggy knot, again and again, until their cum was leaking from your ass and running down your thighs?”

Rafe tries to close his legs, to find some way to hide his throbbing leaking cock.

“Jeez, just look at that hard-on, your so turned on it looks like you could pop a vein. I mean seriously, look at the head of your cock, is it red or purple?” Stiles teases him mercilessly. “And I haven’t even got to what you did to Scott yet, have I? I mean how long have you wanted to be treated as a urinal? Do you drink your own every day, imagining it’s from someone else? Probably thinking it’s Parrish’s, right? I bet you’d love to be on your knees in front of him drinking it right from the source; with the rest of my pack lined up behind him, everyone with a full bladder to empty in or on you.”

Rafe whimpers at Stiles’ words, his cock almost vibrating in front of him.

“You know, I bet you’d love for me to give you the bite and make you the pack fuck toy and whipping boy, wouldn’t you? I bet all you need is for me to slap that hard dicklet of yours and you’d shoot your load all over the place just thinking about being used by the pack like that wouldn’t you?” Stiles pulls Rafe’s head back by the firm grip on his hair as he growls against his ear.

“Please,” Rafe pleads.

“Please?” Stiles scathingly asks, “Please what? Please whip your cock until you cum? Please make you my pack’s chew toy?”

“Yes, please.”

“Say, yes please make me cum and make me your pack’s chew toy,” Stiles demands.

“Please, make me cum, make me your pack’s chew toy,” Rafe sobs.

Stiles let’s go of Rafe’s hands, still held behind his back and reaches round, slapping the underside of his hard cock up and making it bounce against the man’s abs as he starts spraying his load over his chest. He let’s go of the man’s hair and Rafe falls to his knees, his cock still shooting his release.

“I’m sure they’ve caught all that on camera,” Stiles smirks. Rafe looks up at the camera in the corner of the room, the red light blinking down at them; if it was possible he’d flush more from the embarrassment than he already is, but knowing he was being watched on camera does nothing to dampen his arousal.

“When… when do you give me the bite?” Rafe asks expectantly.

“I’m not giving you the bite,” Stiles coldly states.

“But…”

“A monster like you doesn’t deserve the gift, and I’d never allow you anywhere near my pack,” Stiles cuts off his pleading, “Besides, what sort of punishment would it be to treat you like that; you enjoy it too much. No, you’re going to an Alliance Republic facility where you’ll be held indefinitely while being interrogated and investigated for war crimes and the inhumane treatment of prisoners. Until your trial, or a prisoner exchange is arranged with the Union, and I wouldn’t hold my breath for that if I were you; they really don’t seem to care about getting you back.” He turns from Rafe and walks towards the door; looking over his shoulder he adds, “Oh, and someone will bring you clothing. It’s against our policy to degrade or humiliate prisoners, and I’ll make sure the guards responsible are disciplined.”

“Please, don’t… I want…”

“I know you want to be the pack chew toy. That’s obvious from what’s still dripping from you dicklet,” Stiles smirks, his demeanour turning cold as he looks down at Rafe, “But, I don’t want a chew toy for my pack, and if I did, it wouldn’t be you.”

Stiles turns and walks out the door, leaving him looking utterly broken and defeated.

Stiles walks back through the facility to the control room; a guard leading the way.

“That was cold and brutal,” Braeden says to him as she steps out of the control room.

“Well, he should be easier to question now,” Stiles coldly smiles at her.

“You have a vicious and rather ruthless streak,” she declares, “I must remember not to get on your bad side.”

Stiles just smiles at her as they leave the facility.

  
**♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦  
∞  
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦**

  


Jackson is uneasy.

Danny insisted he wanted Stiles to be at their joint counselling session; becoming very distressed as the date drew closer until Jackson agreed.

Jackson hadn’t wanted his brother there; Stiles being there would make it harder for him to avoid saying something he didn’t want to.

Now, the three of them are sitting on the couch in the counsellor’s office; Stiles sitting between him and Danny and the counsellor sitting in the chair across from them.

“So,” Doctor Lightman begins, “This was originally arranged as a session with only two of you; Danny why don’t you tell us why you felt that Alpha Stilinski-Hale needed to be present too?”

“I…” Danny falters, he knows he’s going to have to be truthful, everyone else in the room is a werewolf and can tell when he lies, “I wanted Master here because… because he… I think he knows why I don’t want to be given the bite…” Jackson growls at Danny’s words, remembering how he felt as he held him in the back of the truck as they escaped from the base.

“Jackson, shush,” Stiles admonishes him, “If you stopped and thought about it…”

“I already know how little he thinks of werewolves…” Jackson tries to snarl, but the hurt he feels is there in his voice.

“No,” Stiles states, “That’s not it at all.

“I used to,” Danny confesses, “I believed what WERES said. I mean, WERES had existed and werewolf enslavement had been around since before I was born. It was normal. Werewolves being closer to domesticated dogs and needing to be enslaved was just a fact; it wasn’t anything that anyone questioned or argued against, at least not anyone I knew, that I know of. Not even you, Sir,” Danny briefly glances at Jackson but doesn’t make eye contact. “Not until, after believing I’d lost my best friend to a rogue alpha attack, the guy I’d been in love with despite knowing he was straight and in love with a certain red-head…”

“Strawberry blonde,” Stiles corrects.

“Stiles told me the truth. My best friend hadn’t been bitten by the alpha; he’d always been a werewolf. He’d never… he’d never seemed less human the way WERES said werewolves were, and I’d… the things I’d done,” Danny struggles to continue, his breathing coming in gasps as his emotions overwhelm him and he sobs through the rest of his tale, “I… I finally looked at the other werewolves collared and lead around at school and… I felt sick. It was so obvious to me then that werewolves weren’t any different from humans. I tried… I really tried to fix things but nothing I did brought back my friend. It wasn’t a rogue alpha that took my best friend from me; it was me… I killed him. I can never be forgiven for that. I can never forgive myself.” Danny wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand, “So, how could I ask Master to give me the bite, to save my life; I don’t deserve that gift.”

Stiles can feel Jackson’s turmoil as he vibrates with a tumult of emotions beside him. He grips the back of his brother’s neck with one hand to calm him, while with the other he pulls Danny against him and rubs at the human’s back.

“So, Jackson, is there anything you want to say in response to what Danny has just told us?” Lightman asks.

Jackson sits numbly; vaguely shaking his head while saying nothing.

“What about why you were so upset about him not wanting the bite?” Stiles prods, “About how scared you felt while you were watching over him in the back of the truck?”

“Don’t,” Jackson shoots a murderously look at Stiles but the fear in his eyes confuses Stiles.

“Jacks,” Stiles coaxes him, “You have every right to the emotions you’re feeling. You’ve been hurt. Your feelings are valid. But you can’t just ignore them. You need to voice them, process them, and then you’ll be able to have the happiness you deserve.”

“I can’t,” Jackson croaks, his voice almost inaudible and breaking with heartache, “I… I lived in a house with WERES supporting, lodge members, raising me as their son. They thought I was human, I thought I was human, and then… then I hit puberty and I felt the change start. I knew what it meant. I had to pretend to be the perfect son they wanted. I had to lie to everyone I cared about because I was different. I was an abomination, an animal, something that wasn’t supposed to be loved… I was to be owned and used.

So, I had to pretend to be in love with Lydia, but, she knew we weren’t in love. She knew I was in love with someone else, someone my ‘parents’ wouldn’t approve of. And then… well, everyone knows what happened; the videos are still on the internet.

Now I do have some of the happiness I thought I’d never have. I have a family that accepts me for who I am, I have a brother and alpha that care about me and think I deserve more than I allow myself. But, I can’t… I…”

“Jacks…” Stiles tries to intercede, but Jackson keeps talking.

“Once I had the cure, and my brain wasn’t fucked up from kibble, I relived everything that the guy I had been in love with did to me while he owned me. And if that wasn’t bad enough I couldn’t fall in love with Ethan like I wanted to, because I’m still in love with him, no matter how much I want to hate him. And then, he has to get himself shot and nearly die in my arms while he refuses to take the bite and… I can’t… I can’t forgive him, I can’t hate him. I’m still in love him, and I can’t…”

Stiles pulls Jackson in to hug, and the beta buries his face against his alpha’s neck, sobbing as he tries to reign in his emotions.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Stiles tries to comfort him, “I promise you, now that you’ve let your feelings out, it will be okay.”

Danny watches from the other side of the couch, tears streaking his face as he realises the depth of what Jackson has been hiding and how he hurt him much more than he imagined.

  
**♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦  
∞  
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦**

  


“I’ll keep Danny in the den if you’d rather he wasn’t in your room,” Stiles informs Jackson as he parks outside the Stilinski house. He sees the quickly hidden panicked look that crosses Jackson’s face, the slight widening of his eyes and hears the flutter in his heartbeat. Danny sits quietly in the back. He hasn’t said a word since they left the counsellor’s office.

Jackson turns to face Stiles, but, before he opens his mouth to reply…

“I want you to answer based on your initial reaction,” Stiles adds, “Not what you’ve thought since.”

“Why?” Jackson frowns at his alpha, “What makes you so sure the answer isn’t the same?”

“It might be,” Stiles replies, “I don’t know, but, I think your instinctual reaction will be a more honest reflection of what you want.”

“He can stay in my room,” Jackson answers, glancing back at the human sitting quietly in the back seat, his eyes as red-rimmed with tears as Jackson’s were earlier. Turning back to Stiles he adds, “And I’ll start giving him his morning spankings again, but, I’m still not going to have sex with him. You’ll need to deal with making him orgasm when he’s allowed to. And you should get his collar replaced.”

“Okay,” Stiles responds, getting out of the car.

Later that night, Jackson is staring at the ceiling of his bedroom, the covers of the bed draped loosely over him. He can hear Danny breathing from the corner of the room and knows he isn’t asleep either.

“I can practically hear you thinking, keeping me awake,” he complains, knowing it’s his own thoughts keeping him from sleeping. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Sir,” Danny replies, “Sorry.”

“We both know that’s a lie,” Jackson reminds him, “So, try again. What’s wrong? Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“I… I’m sorry. I wish I could take back everything I did, I wish I hadn’t been so stupid and believed what I’d been taught about werewolves, if I could undo it all, if I could go back in time and do it all differently, I swear I would, I…” Danny blurts out, his words rushed between soft cries, “I loved you then and I still love you now, and I know I’ll never be able to make things right between us; and I’m so sorry that I hurt you so much.”

“I know. Go to sleep, Danny,” Jackson replies, turning over in his bed as he fights the urge to comfort the human, and to hide his own silent tears.

  
**♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦  
∞  
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦**

  


Scott and Isaac leave a gap between them as they sit on the couch, Lightman sitting in his chair observes the two as he writes his notes.

“Your Alpha told me that you two are mates,” the doctor comments, “Yet, you choose to sit so far apart; is there a reason for this?”

“My mate hates me, because of what happened to him because of me while we were held by WERES, and now he can’t stand to touch me,” Isaac wails, pouring out all his fears and sorrows about how he is losing his mate.

“What?! No!” Scott exclaims, “What happened wasn’t because of you, it was because of me! Because I’m not a good enough mate to protect you like I should have. I failed you, and they hurt you because I couldn’t stop them,” Scott cries, “It’s all my fault. And now I don’t even smell like pack anymore, I smell like them, and I’m…”

“No!” Isaac denies, “You don’t smell like them, you smell of you. If you stopped pulling away from us the pack scent would be stronger on you.”

“Are you pulling away from your pack, from your alpha?” Lightman asks Scott.

“I…” Scott looks down, “I don’t deserve to have a pack, not after…”

“What?!” Isaac roars, “You tried to save me from them by sacrificing yourself. Jackson tried to save Danny by doing the same thing. You were both lied to. How can you think you don’t deserve to be with the pack, with me? Do you think Jackson doesn’t deserve to be part of the pack?”

“No, he… I… I let you down,” Scott whines.

“No you didn’t,” Isaac tells him, “I love you, it’s not your fault that WERES tricked you into thinking they would stop… beating me if you let them use you as…” Isaac pauses, not sure if he should say what they did to Scott in front of the counsellor, “Like they used you,” he finishes.

“Is that something you want to talk about, Scott?” Lightman asks.

“I…” he looks down at his hands, clasped tightly together as he rested his forearms on his knees, “You know about our relationship with our alpha?” at the counsellor’s nod he continues, “They knew about one of my kinks, they used me… used me as a urinal; made me drink their piss, or just pissed on me…” he trails off.

“How did you feel about that?”

“I hated it,” Scott spits out, “It was something I liked with Stiles, with him I knew he didn’t think I was worthless and nothing but a thing to be used. But with them, they saw it as proof I was less than human, that I didn’t matter…”

“And have you done this with your alpha since?”

“No,” Scott quietly replies.

“Stiles hasn’t done anything with us since,” Isaac complains, “He hasn’t even replaced our collars.”

“Do you want him to?”

“Yes,” Scott and Isaac reply simultaneously.

“Have you spoken with him about it?” When they shake their heads in reply Lightman adds, “Maybe it would be a place to start.”

  
**♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦  
∞  
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦**

  


Richard Vaughn looks over the reports on computer screens as he sits at his desk.

Taking over as the head of The Enslavement Directorate in the wake of Morden’s death had been as simple as he had expected. As the only one to know all the secrets Morden had kept, and with the knowledge he had of the secrets others had kept, securing the votes of the board had been a matter of using the right _persuasion_. 

Now he’s looking over the briefing statements issued by the office of the president and vice-president, the reporting of them, and the on-going public reaction to them. It’s pretty much what he hoped for.

After his meeting with them, he met with each of them separately the next day.

The President’s statement is a blanket denial of the stories of experimentation on US service personnel; damning them as nothing but fake news and propaganda from liberal news outlets seeking to further their own left-wing anti-American agenda.

The Vice-President’s statement says that a full and independent investigation is required to uncover the truth of whether WERES and the Newman-McMahon Corporation have been conducting illegal and inhuman experiments on humans, and the extent that the offices of the former President and Vice-President colluded with them to abuse the US military service personnel.

The national and world press are having a field day. The public are being very vocal in their distrust of the DC political establishment, with several calls from those that want their state to cede from the Union; not all of them wishing to join the Alliance Republic.

Now it’s time for him to release the official TED/WERES statement.

  
**♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦  
∞  
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦**

  


“Are you serious?” Claudia asks Braeden as quickly switches on the TV screen in her office. Braeden quickly switches to show eight Union channels on the screen at once; including FOX News, CNN, MSNBC, CBS, and ABC. All are covering the same briefing being delivered from the steps of TED building in DC.

“As the recently appointed head of The Enslavement Directorate (TED) and the renamed Werecreature Enslavement Regulation Enforcement Services (WERES)…” the man standing behind the podium is stating.

“Who is he?” Claudia asks.

“Our information is that he’s Richard Vaughn, formerly an assistant to Morden,” Braeden informs her.

“How did an assistant to Morden become the head of the organisation?” Laura asks.

“We don’t know, yet,” Braeden states.

“…it is my duty to inform you that the recent statements of experimentation by WERES and Newman-McMahon Corporation were fully known and supported by my predecessor, Mr Morden. The experiments were conducted on US military service personnel and this was with the aid and support of the Office of the President, Vice-President, Secretary of Defence, Inspector General, and the Joint Chiefs of Staff…” a shot rings out and the man is ducking behind the podium; a security detail quickly surrounds him as cameras all pan to show panic and confusion around the scene. Vaughn can be seen being bundled back inside the building while a gunman is being brought to the ground and cuffed.

“We have to capitalise on this, and quickly,” Claudia says, “Liaise with the other Alliance councils; this needs to be a concerted strike at the heart of WERES power base. My god, their own CEO just admitted what they’ve been doing to US soldiers… Contact my son, we need his newest beta to tell his story.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ### Excerpt from Chapter-09
> 
>   
>  “Are you fucking kidding me?!” Stiles yells across the table at Braeden and Deaton; he can feel the fearful tension that quickly rose in Stephen as the two of them laid out what they wanted. “You have all the details on exactly what that sick fuck did to him. You don’t need Stephen putting his face all over the news; you have the evidence of his experiments and can put it out there without identifying him, let alone force him to go in front of cameras and say what they did to him!”  
> Stephen whines beside him and Stiles wraps an arm around his shoulder and pulls him closer to him; the chair scraping across the floor at it slides next to Stiles’.  
> “Yes, we can,” Deaton agrees.  
> “But,” Braeden adds, “The story will garner more interest and coverage with a human face telling their story.”  
> “He’s a werewolf,” Stiles growls.  
> “You know what I mean,” Braeden bites back  
>   
> 
> 
>   
>  **§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§**   
> 
> 
> With Deaton and Braeden gone, Stiles and Stephen head back down to the den. The rest of the pack, those that live in the house, are in the lounge. Stiles can feel the anxiousness rolling off everyone; especially Stephen. Stiles does a quick calculation in his head and realises that even with Jordan now back in his own home, the seven of them won’t fit in his and his mates’ bed.  
> “Derek, get the bedding from our bed,” Stiles commands, “We’re making a bed on the floor in here and all sleeping together tonight.”  
> “All?” Jackson asks, his gaze flicking to Danny before it falls back on Stiles.  
> “All,” Stiles confirms, “I know you heard the conversations upstairs; so…”  
> “Pack comfort pile,” Isaac finishes the sentence.  
> “Well, with those of us that are here,” Stiles smiles at him.
> 
>  


	9. Chapter-09

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is un-beta'd and all mistakes are my own.  
>   
>   
> 
> 
>   
>  **§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§**   
> 
> 
>  
> 
>  

Stiles is feeling pretty good about how things were going with his pack’s sessions with the counsellor. He considered it kismet that the doctor had been seconded to Beacon Hills as Aiden Carver had finally started responding to him and he wanted to ensure continuity in the other wolf’s recovery.

He’s glad Jackson is talking about his feelings with the doc, finally getting the help he needs. His brother still has some very complicated feelings regarding Danny to work through and decide whether he wants to take their relationship forward; to what it could have been if Danny hadn’t believed what they were taught.

Then today, when Scott and Isaac came back from their session he could see how close they were again; holding hands and smiling at each other like they used to. After one session. All they needed was to talk it seems, to talk honestly about what was going on in their heads, to start getting past the strain those events had put on their relationship. He hopes that it will be the same when he and Derek join them for the next session and that they can regain some of what they had. He’s not sure if either will want to continue as his collared submissives, but, he hopes at least they will want to remain in their polyamorous relationship.

He leaves Derek putting Talia to bed for the night, she settles easier for Derek than she does for him, while James is the opposite, and heads into the bedroom only to be tackled onto the bed and two pairs of hands pulling off his shirt and pants.

“Hey, guys,” he pulls himself towards the headboard and sees a naked Scott and Isaac, both sporting needy erections, grinning at him from the foot of the bed, “So… something on your minds?” he questions them. They look at each other, biting at their bottom lip.

“Alph… Master,” Isaac looks up at him pleadingly, “We both want you to put our collars back on us…”

“And start treating us like your subs again,” Scott adds, “I… I thought no-one in the pack would want to touch me because of how I smelled after what _he_ ,” Scott bites out the reference his father, “Had those soldiers do to me…”

“Scotty, we got that stench washed off you, I wanted to cover you in my scent and remind your mine,” Stiles pulls the beta to him, wrapping his arms around him, “I just… I didn’t want to do anything to remind you guys of what happened, I didn’t think you’d want to…”

“We want to wear your collar, show everyone you’re our alpha and our master,” Scott says.

“And we want you to keep us smooth and spank us in the morning,” Isaac adds, “I miss feeling your hand warming me up.”

“And I want you holding the key to my cock cage,” Scott says, “And I want… I want to be my Master’s Piss Puppy.”

“Are you sure?” Stiles asks him, taking Scott’s head in his hands and looking sternly into his eyes.

“Yes Master,” Scott states determinedly, “I don’t want them,” and Stiles gets that he’s referring to the WERES/Union soldiers, “To take that away from me.”

Stiles kisses him, bringing their mouths together in a clash of teeth, his tongue running along Scott’s lips demanding entrance and as Scott allows he probes deeply into the warm wetness of mouth.

“Well, that’s hot,” Derek’s voice pulls them both from the bubble they were creating around themselves.

“Yeah,” Isaac agrees from where he’s kneeling right beside them, grinning at his mate and his Alpha/lover/Master.

“Well, one of us in this room still has too many clothes on,” Stiles leers at Derek, “I think my subby wolves should help him with that while I finish undressing.”

Isaac and Scott move towards Derek with a smile on their face, their hard lengths leading the way as Stiles picks up the clothes they stripped from him and throws them onto the nearby chair. He quickly adds his boxers and socks to the pile.

As he stalks towards his mate and their lovers there’s a knock at their bedroom door.

“Stiles, Stiles,” Jackson loudly whispers, “Braeden and Deaton are here. They need to talk to you and Stephen immediately.”

“Seriously?!” Stiles exclaims, “We were just heading to bed, we’ve got school in the morning.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jackson scoffs from the other side of the door, “You might have been heading to bed, but sleep wasn’t on the agenda.”

****  
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦  
∞  
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

 ****

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Stiles yells across the table at Braeden and Deaton; he can feel the fearful tension that quickly rose in Stephen as the two of them laid out what they wanted. “You have all the details on exactly what that sick fuck did to him. You don’t need Stephen putting his face all over the news; you have the evidence of his experiments and can put it out there without identifying him, let alone force him to go in front of cameras and say what they did to him!”

Stephen whines beside him and Stiles wraps an arm around his shoulder and pulls him closer to him; the chair scraping across the floor at it slides next to Stiles’.

“Yes, we can,” Deaton agrees.

“But,” Braeden adds, “The story will garner more interest and coverage with a human face telling their story.”

“He’s a werewolf,” Stiles growls.

“You know what I mean,” Braeden bites back, “People will more readily listen to and absorb the facts if they know that it is that person’s story and can identify with them. We can reach more people and turn the tide against WERES and the Union government if we tell the story of what WERES did to Lieutenant Stephen Lunsford of the United States Army.”

“Will it really help?” Stephen asks Braeden, “Make sure they can’t do this to anyone else?”

“There’s a good chance that it will,” Deaton intercedes before Braeden replies.

“Can alpha be there with me?” the beta quietly enquires.

“Let them try and stop me,” Stiles growls, “If you really want to do this, I won’t stop you. But, some people will believe we’re lying; because they want to believe what WERES says about werewolves. And, once the story is out, and you’re in the media telling everyone what happened to you, there’s nothing to stop your wife and daughter seeing it.”

“Oh,” Stephen casts his eyes downward. Stiles can see the thought makes him pause. “They should know,” he finally says, “Then she’ll know that I… I don’t even know if she supports WERES, even if I could still be her husband, she might not want a werewolf, so, it’s better if she knows I can’t be.”

“If you want us to find your wife and…” Braeden starts to offer.

“NO,” Stephen cries out, “No, I can’t be her husband, I can’t… no, no, no…” he frantically shakes his head from side to side until Stiles pulls him into a hug, rubbing his cheek against the beta’s, surrounding him with his scent and calming him.

“We’ll sleep on whether or not Stephen is gonna be part of your story,” Stiles dictates, “And I’ll give you an answer tomorrow after I get home from school. You can work out something to pull together from what you already know; leaving him,” Stiles points to Stephen for emphasis, “Anonymous.”

****  
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦  
∞  
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

With Deaton and Braeden gone, Stiles and Stephen head back down to the den. The rest of the pack, those that live in the house, are in the lounge. Stiles can feel the anxiousness rolling off everyone; especially Stephen. Stiles does a quick calculation in his head and realises that even with Jordan now back in his own home, the seven of them won’t fit in his and his mates’ bed.

“Derek, get the bedding from our bed,” Stiles commands, “We’re having a puppy pile on the floor in here and all sleeping together tonight.”

“All?” Jackson asks, his gaze flicking to Danny before it falls back on Stiles.

“All,” Stiles confirms, “I know you heard the conversations upstairs; so…”

“Pack comfort pile,” Isaac finishes the sentence.

“Well, with those of us that are here,” Stiles smiles at him.

They settle down in the nest of blankets. Stephen between Stiles and Derek. Danny on Derek’s other side. Isaac and Scott in their usual place next to Stiles. Danny is surprised when Jackson settles at his back. Nobody comments on it.

When the alarm sounds in the morning everyone has moved during the night. Stiles, Stephen, and Derek are still at the centre of the pile, but, everyone else is lying or stretching across them, so they are touching both Stiles and Derek; surrounding Stephen in the scent of pack and safety.

“Come on, move people,” Stiles grumbles, “Five of the seven of us have to get to ready and get to school.” There are groans from four of the five people.

“Are we gonna do what we talked about last night?” Scott asks.

“We talked about a lot of stuff, you wanna be more specific Scotty?” Stiles replies.

“About returning to our morning routine,” Scott mumbles, at Stiles raised eyebrows he adds, “Spanking us and stuff.”

“Yes,” Stiles confirms, “It’s why I set the alarm a little earlier.”

“I’ll take Danny back up to my room; we can get showered upstairs, then I’ll give him his morning spanking before he gets dressed,” Jackson says as he rises from the pile of blankets, “We’ll meet y’all in the kitchen for breakfast.”

“Remember his cock cage,” Stiles calls out after them.

“No,” Jackson replies, “Be grateful I’m spanking him.”

“Enjoy,” Stiles teases; earning a growl from his brother. “So,” Stiles turns to Stephen, “Can you help Derek with Talia and James, while I take these two to shower and shave.”

“Yes, alpha,” Stephen replies with some apprehension.

“What’s wrong?” Stiles asks him.

“I… I…” Stephen tries to answer, his heart pounding, “Are you going to spank me too?”

“No, just Scotty, Isaac, and Derek,” Stiles replies, “They and Danny are the only ones in the pack that are in consensual submissive relationships.” He sees Stephen’s look of confusion at his answer, “Why don’t you ask Derek about it while you help him with the kids, while I go deal with these two, okay?”

“Okay alpha,” Stephen replies.

****  
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦  
∞  
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

 ****

Stiles stands behind Scott under the spray of the shower, his hands glide over his beta’s freshly shaved body, checking for any stray hairs below the neck. Scott leans back against him and Stiles smiles as his fingers slide over his beta’s smooth pubis and brush against the rising hard cock straining towards Scott’s abs. It’s not as if Scott doesn’t know what Stiles is about to do next; he was watching while Stiles had Isaac in the shower before him.

Stiles reaches over and quickly turns the water to cold and an icy blast quickly chills the erection away.

“Don’t want that getting any harder,” Stiles says into his ear, “Otherwise how am I gonna lock your cock cage on you?”

“Yes Sir,” Scott moans rubbing his cheek against Stiles’.

“Time to get dried,” Stiles hums against Scott’s cheek, “And make sure your cock doesn’t get hard. I have a present to lock it into.”

Scott is finishing drying himself when Stiles walks back into the bathroom; his hair still wet, and droplets of water falling onto his skin, the towel he’d been drying himself with discarded on the floor. He has a box in his hand.

“So, you know the pink cock cage I got for Danny,” Stiles states.

“The holy trainer,” Scott says.

“Yep, the new version, the V2,” Stiles confirms, “Well, this is the clear version of that, only, it’s the smaller cage. I got this for you.”

“The smaller cage?” Scott frowns.

“Yeah,” Stiles grins at him, “Because when you’re soft your cock isn’t as long as Danny’s, no matter how big it gets when you’re hard. And we don’t want you to have too much room to grow inside the cage.”

“Oh,” Scott still frowns.

“So, let’s get you locked up,” Stiles kneels in front of his beta and takes the ring out of the box. He takes a hold of Scott’s balls and pulls some of the scrotal skin through the ring, then pushes one testicle through; pulling a little more skin, he then pushes the other testicle through the ring. He then bends Scott’s soft penis downwards and pulls it through the ring. “Part one over, but, you’re starting to get a little hard puppy.”

“Yes, Sir, I like you playing with my balls and cock,” Scott looks down at him with big puppy eyes.

“Well, I better get this locked on you fast,” Stiles smiles, lifting the clear cage from the box. He quickly applies some lube to the inside of the cage and inserts the head of Scott’s cock inside, sliding the cage up and under the top of the ring he pushes the ‘magiclock’ through the cage and ring, turns the key to lock the device and pulls the key out. “There, all locked up until I let decide to let you cum.”

“Yes, Master,” Scott huskily agrees. Stiles stands and kisses him.

“Now, time to give you, Isaac, and Derek your spanking,” Stiles grins at his aroused lover, “Before I give you your next present for the day.”

After taking each of his lovers over his knee and turning their asses a shade of crimson, cuddling them and scenting them, he lets them dress; except Scott.

“Okay, Scotty, come with me,” Stiles instructs as he walks back to the bathroom. Scott swallows and quickly follows, hoping he knows what’s about to happen. “So,” Stiles begins, turning to face Scott, “This is what I plan, you remember your safe words?” at Scott’s nod he continues, “Then, once I’ve finished explaining I want a colour from you; got it?”

“Yes, Master,” Scott eagerly responds.

“You’re going to wear two pairs of boxer briefs. I’m going to piss in one of them before you put them on, and then wear the other pair over the top to stop most of the wetness leaking through your jeans. At school, during lunch, I’m going to piss on the briefs again. You are going to walk around school all day, with the wet briefs clinging to you soaked in my piss. All the wolves at school will be able to smell it on you and know that you’re walking around with your alpha’s piss covering your crotch. Colour?”

Scott’s dick has been trying to fill the cage at the thought of kneeling in front of Stiles and drinking down his piss but, this… he wants to, it scares him and he’s not sure about wearing a pair of wet boxer briefs all day, but to be walking around with his alpha’s, his master’s, piss coating his skin all day… it excites him…

“Yellow,” Scott finds himself saying.

“Okay, talk to me, tell me what you’re feeling,” Stiles smiles at him.

“I… I like the thought of everybody smelling you on me and knowing I’m yours…”

“I want to make sure you know your mine too,” Stiles tells him, “I don’t want you thinking that anything would make you not be mine. You’re my best friend, my lover, my submissive puppy, and my brother; always.” Scott’s grins at his alpha’s words, the grin growing wider as Stiles tells him how much he means to him.

“I love you,” Scott smiles.

“Love you too, puppy,” Stiles returns, “Now, back to your feelings on wearing the briefs soaked in my piss all day.” Scott moans at the words.

“I really like the idea, but… what if it leaks through to my jeans? What if people see it?”

“If we had any adult diapers and booster pads I’d have suggested using those. But, that would be bulkier and there would be more chance of the diaper being noticed. You could take a put one of the babies’ diapers between the piss briefs and the dry pair. Maybe take a spare diaper with you too, in case we need to change it at lunch to stop any leakage.”

“Okay. Diaper to put stop the leakage, and a spare in case we need one at lunch when you soak my briefs in your piss again. And I wear one of Derek’s shirts, they’ll be bigger on me and hide more in case of leakage.”

“Okay.”

“Green,” Scott’s eyes gleam with excitement.

“Right, go get your briefs so I can piss on them.”

****  
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦  
∞  
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 ****

Scott is sitting in class, counting down the minutes until the bell rings and he can go meet up with his alpha and the rest of the pack for lunch. There are none of his pack in this class with him. There are other wolves, and he can tell from the twitch of their noses when he walked into the room that they could smell his alpha’s piss on him.

It’s cooled now, and the scent is not as strong as it was this morning when he pulled the warm, wet briefs on. The diaper between the wet and dry briefs has kept his jeans from getting any tell-tale signs of dampness; thankfully, but, his cock is straining in the confines of the cage at the thought of Stiles pissing directly onto his briefs. He pictures it… them both in the toilets after lunch, Stiles instructing him to strip to his briefs and sit toilet seat in one of the cubicles. With the cubicle door open, Stiles strides towards him, fishing his semi-hard cock out of his pants and points it directly at the bulge his caged cock makes in the damp cotton of his briefs and the hot stream of his alpha’s…

“McCall?!” the teacher’s voice cuts into his thoughts, he’s looking expectantly at him.

“Sir?” Scott asks, looking around him as every other student’s eyes are on him.

“If you had been paying attention instead of day-dreaming you would have heard,” the teacher admonishes him, “I asked what part of the neuron contains the nucleus and other?”

“The cell body,” Scott answers.

“And organelles are?” the teacher supplementary asks.

“A structure that performs specific functions within a cell,” Scott responds.

“Very good,” the teacher smiles at him as the bell rings, “Try and stay focused in my class please,” his teacher says to him as he’s grabbing his books and bag.

“Yes, Sir,” he sheepishly replies as he rushes for the door, anxious to meet up with Stiles and his pack mates.

****  
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦  
∞  
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 ****

Stiles drives to the Argent Training Corporation offices after school, taking Scott, Isaac, and Danny to get them new collars to replace the ones that were lost while they were held by the Union.

“Can we pick our collars?” Scott asks as they walk into the Argent CES store; the sign above the door reading ‘Argent Consensual Enslavement Supplies’. The store is licensed by the Consensual Enslavement Bureau to sell items that legally recognised masters and mistresses may require.

“Sure,” Stiles smiles, “You can all pick the collars you want.” Danny looks at him quizzically. “Even you Danny,” he confirms.

“Master, I’d rather that you chose for me,” Danny replies, looking at the floor.

“Danny, I want **you** to choose,” Stiles instructs him, “And choose wisely; I’ll know if it isn’t the collar you really want.”

Leaving his submissive wolves and his human slave to wander around the store, Stiles heads through to the office in the back.

“I don’t normally get a visit from you,” Peter comments from behind his desk, “Are you sure you want to allow Scott to pick his own collar?” he asks smirking at the screen. Peeking over Peter’s shoulder Stiles sees Scott lifting a black neoprene collar with yellow piping along the top and bottom; the words ‘PISS PUPPY’ clearly visible on both sides of the lock.

“Hopefully Isaac will talk him out of it,” he comments, “He has to realise whatever he picks he’ll be wearing all day every day in front of everyone at school and his mom. And I don’t think he's ready for his mom to know he’s into watersports.”

“So,” Stiles turns his attention to Peter, “How’s business?”

“Doing just fine,” Peter raises his gaze appraisingly, “You don’t normally take such a keen interest?”

“Nah, I happily leave the day-to-day to you and Chris, but, I figure I should make sure I know what’s going on,” Stiles smirks, “I mean, I’ve got a mates, kids, and a pack to support; this is currently the only source of income I have, so, it’s prudent to ensure no-one is running the business I rely on to pay for everything into the ground.”

“Stiles, don’t you trust me?” Peter feigns shock and hurt.

“Ha,” he laughs in retort, “I’ve got no reason to think either you or Chris would do anything to hurt the companies; I mean, my kids are Derek’s kids, they’re your grandniece and grandnephew. And Chris isn’t going to put Allison’s inheritance in jeopardy. But…”

“It still makes sense for you to know what’s happening, both operationally and financially,” Peter finishes for him, “Very wise. I’m glad my nephew has an alpha and a mate that show’s such common sense and wisdom.”

Stiles quickly glances through some of the reports Peter has on his desk, nothing jumps out at him as anything he should worry about. The training centres are making a small profit from the Alliance payments for the werewolves passing through them for acclimatisation to being free-people again. The hunting equipment sales are steady; if not what they used to be. The rental from the properties leased to the Alliance is consistent. Then there are the sales, online and from other stores like this, that are steadily growing by more than he’d expect, given the small number of consensual enslavement contracts that have been signed.

“How come the CES stores are selling so much merchandise?” he asks, “There aren’t that many contracts that have been approved.”

“Really?” Peter smirks, he continues when Stiles wide eyes ask for an explanation, “We don’t just sell to people with a contract; there are some people who prefer to buy our goods than go to a licensed sex store for their collars, floggers, or nipple clamps.”

“Oh…” Stiles exclaims as the reason suddenly becomes clear.

“Indeed.”

“Well, speaking of collars, I had better go see what my three have selected,” Stiles smiles and heads out of the office.

“Okay guys,” Stiles calls out as he walks into the aisle his three submissives are standing in, not one that has collars, it has diapers and other age-play paraphernalia, “Have you picked your collars?” he asks staring at the pack of diapers in Scott’s hands. Scott turns several shades of pink; each getting progressively darker. “Let’s start with the collars,” Stiles states, “Then we’ll talk about what else you might want me to buy for you. Danny, you first.”

“It’s like the first one you put on me,” Danny states, handing him a lurid pink one-inch wide leather collar. The leather is soft, and the eyelets are stainless steel, as is the D-ring. The padlock hooks through the catch where it goes through the eyelet, locking the collar.

“Okay,” Stiles accepts his decision. “Isaac?”

“I just wanted a plain collar,” Isaac states, handing Stiles a black leather collar similar in style to the pink one that Danny chose.

“That’s fine,” Stiles informs him, “Okay, Scott?”

“It’s not my first choice,” Scott starts, before rushing into explaining his choice, “Isaac says the collar I really want will make my mom and your dad uncomfortable, so, I’d like to get this,” he hands Stiles a yellow neoprene collar; it’s one and a half inches wide, has two black stripes, one along the top and the other along the bottom of the collar. There are two a D-rings evenly spaced along the length. It has the same locking mechanism as the other two collars. “The one I want is similar, but, it has the words PISS PUPPY on it; it’s black with yellow stripes. This one isn’t obviously related to piss play, but, it is sort of, and so, I’d like to get this one.”

“Okay, I think it’s a reasonable compromise,” Stiles smiles at him, “Some people will get the connection and know you’re my piss puppy, and those that might be offended or cause trouble won’t.” Scott smiles back. “Now,” Stiles continues, “What’s with the diapers?”

“I…” Scott blushes again as he stammers his reply, “I just… I thought maybe… if you wanted to make me go to school, or out in public, wearing briefs soaked in your piss again, that, maybe, it might be a good idea to get bigger diapers that I could wear over them…”

“Good idea,” Stiles says looking contemplative, “And, we could get some booster pads, and instead of pissing in your briefs, you could just wear the diaper and pads and I could piss directly into the diaper. Or make you piss in the diaper while you wear it. Or both.”

No-one misses the heat that colours Scott’s cheeks; both Isaac and Stiles catch the arousal in his scent.

“O… okay,” Scott quietly replies, his cock pushing against the boundary of the plastic encasing it.

Stiles takes the pack of diapers from him, picks up another and a couple of packs of booster pads. 

“Okay, anything anyone else wants before we go and pay for these?” Stiles asks Isaac and Danny.

Both Isaac and Danny have an additional item they’d like. 

Isaac takes Stiles to the aisle with the nipple clamps, a set he’d seen earlier having caught his eye. He asks Stiles if he can have the pair of purple wireless vibrating nipple clamps.

Danny leads him round to the chastity cages. He wants the Oxballs tailpipe chastity device. A rubbery cock cage that stretches to fit around the cock, with a butt plug built in. 

****  
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦  
∞  
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 ****

When they get home, Stiles takes Scott into the bathroom and has him strip. He removes the briefs, diaper, and the pair of briefs soaked in his piss, before making him take a shower.

“We need to make sure your clean and don’t end up with jock itch from all that wetness around your groin,” Stiles informs the sulking subby wolf, “I’ll put you in a diaper once you're out of the shower and dry.”

“Will you… use it?” Scott asks from under the spray of water.

“Maybe later; I don’t need to go right now.”

Once Scott is out and has dried most of his body with the towel, Stiles takes a hair drier to his crotch; making sure the warm air dries inside the cock cage. Getting Scott to lay down on the floor, he applies some baby lotion to his smooth skin around the cock cage before fastening the fresh adult diaper around his waist.

“There,” he says to a blushing Scott, “All padded for the night.” He stands, picking up Scott’s clothes and dumping them in the laundry hamper.

“Shouldn’t I put them back on again?”

“Nope,” Stiles smiles at him, “You’ve got your diaper on. You’d normally want to go naked anyway.”

“But, they’ll all see…”

“Scotty, no-one in the pack is gonna kink-shame you,” Stiles tells him, “Or they’ll answer to me. Now come on; we’ve got homework and dinner.”

“Do I have to use the diaper?”

“Do you want to, or do you just want me to use it?”

“I… I mostly just want you to,” Scott mumbles, “I don’t want to… I only want it wet.”

“That’s fine; if you want to piss in your diaper you can,” Stiles sighs in relief, “I don’t think I would want to deal with anything more than cleaning up what came out your cock.” He pulls Scott into a hug, kissing him, “Now, let’s deal with homework, then dinner and relax in front of the TV. Then before bed, I’ll piss into your diaper and you can sleep in it.”

****  
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∞  
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 ****

Stiles had checked with Stephen that he still wanted to do the interview that Deaton, and Braeden, had asked of him before he called them and said ‘yes, he’ll do it’. Now they were sitting in the counsellor’s office, on the couch in front of the large desk, where they were going to video him. He could tell that his beta was nervous.

“If you want to pull out of doing this, you can,” he tells him, embracing him and scenting him.

“No, Mas… Alpha,” he stumbles in reply, “I’m okay, as long as you’re here.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Stiles assures him, pulling back to face him he adds, “And, if at any point you’re uncomfortable and don’t want to continue, you can tell them and I’ll make sure they stop. Okay?”

“Yes, Alpha,” Stephen smiles in reply.

Stiles turns to the door as Deaton and Lightman enter, followed by an unknown woman carrying the video recorder and a tripod.

“Mr Lundsford,” Deaton states as the woman sets up the video equipment at the side of the desk, “You remember Dr Lightman, I believe Alpha Stilinski-Hale arranged for you to talk with him previously.”

“Yes,” Stephen softly replies.

“The Alliance Council thought it best that I conduct the interview,” Lightman informs them, “As they felt that may be more comfortable for you.”

“What’s the plan here?” Stiles demands; he notices the look that passes between Deaton and Lightman and raises his eyebrows in question.

“I don’t think that Mr Lunsford should be talking about this on camera to be broadcast around the world,” Lightman states, staring at Stiles, “After the single session that he has had with me previously I believe that this will be little more than a therapy session, one that will be covering something that he has not fully processed and resolved his emotions regarding.”

“I agree,” Stiles answer clearly shock everyone, “But, it is something that he chose to do and while he still wants to I will not persuade him otherwise. I’ve told him the choice is his and that he can change his mind at any time. If he does, this session will end and nothing that has been recorded here will be used,” Stiles stares down Deaton, “Are we clear?”

“Yes, we are clear,” Deaton replies. “We have material, documents and photographs, from the procedures that WERES carried out on you,” he informs Stephen, “And we intend to use those in the video; are you okay with that?”

“I…” Stephen looks to Stiles for direction.

“He gets to see everything you plan to use before he decides,” Stiles firmly insists to Deaton, “And he sees the final cut and has a veto over that if he isn’t happy.”

“This isn’t intended to belittle or cause him any distress,” Deaton calmly states, “It is to show how much of a victim he is; how little regard the Union, and WERES, have for even its human population.”

“And he has a veto over anything he doesn’t like,” Stiles still insists.

“Agreed,” Lightman concurs.

“Of course,” Deaton sighs.

_ President Palin is getting out of her car, Secret Service personnel scanning the surrounding area as she walks towards the steps of the facility. She smiles and waves as she walks; the cameras flashing as the press and crowds take photographs. Someone pushes out from the crowd, and suddenly their face is shifting, people are scrambling fleeing from him as he roars, rushing at the President, throwing her security detail aside, and slashing his claws through her throat as he shouts, “For the Alliance.”  _

_ There is chaos at the scene, guns firing as the man is taken down in a hail of bullets by the security personnel. _

“Do you remember that day?” Lightman’s voice can be heard as the camera focuses over his shoulder and onto Stephen.

“Yes,” he shakily replies, “I… I haven’t seen that before but, I remember doing what I was told to.”

“Told by the Alliance?” Lightman asks.

“No,” Stephen frowns, “By my Ma…” he looks to his side then back at Lightman, “By Mr Morden.”

“You changed your answer,” Lightman questions him, “At first you weren’t going to say, Mr Morden.”

“No, my Alpha doesn’t like me referring to him as my Master.”

“Was he?”

“Yes, I was Mr Morden’s slave-pet after I became a werewolf; he owned and trained me.”

“You weren’t a born werewolf.”

“No.”

“Let’s talk about how that change happened.”

_ There’s footage of documents, printed on paper with the letterhead of NMC and the State Department, and photographs. The voice-over talking about classified research into an enhanced soldier, the search to discover how to make a super-soldier; someone with all of a werewolves strength, agility, enhanced-senses and healing but, without the ability to shift. _

“You were a test subject in the Union’s experiments.”

“Yes.”

“How did that come about?”

“I was married, and my wife… we wanted to give our daughter everything,” he swallows, not once looking at the camera, his head tilted slightly forward and his gaze fixed on the carpet, “And private schools cost and every little extra bit of cash helps, right? I mean, I didn’t want my wife asking her parents; they were kind of snobbish, old-money and very involved with the local and state hunting lodges. When the base commanders asked for volunteers for this special program to test some new drugs to enhance our effectiveness, I signed up.”

“Did they explain the dangers involved?”

“They said it was untested, they weren’t sure what the side-effects would be, and that it might not work,” he frowns as he answers, looking straight at Lightman, “They never said we would become werewolves and sold as slave-pets.”

“What happened?”

“We’d be given a shot, go about our training routine. They slowly increased the physical training; the number of reps, the weight being lifted, the number of laps of the track, the time we were to complete the distance in. Then a week later they’d take some blood and give us another shot. They changed our diet; making sure our food contained more protein and less carb.

“Then after a few weeks, we’d wake up one morning and one of the other beds would be empty. They’d tell us that the person was no-longer participating in the program. After a couple of weeks, we were down to about half the beds being empty.”

“How many were in the program?”

“In our bunkhouse, there were forty at the start; and there were two other bunkhouses that held thirty each…”

“So, there was a total of one-hundred service personnel involved in the experiment,” Lightman states.

“Yes.”

“And you all became werewolves?”

“I… I don’t know. At the time I started noticing changes, hearing things I should be able to, starting to meet the time limits on the laps of the track, lifting the number of reps with the weights, by then about half of the beds were empty. That’s when I woke up naked in a cage at a WERES training centre.”

“You were with other werewolves, being trained to be sold as slave-pets?”

“Yes,” Stephen answers, suppressing the whine at the back of his throat, “There were others from the program that I saw there. We didn’t talk. We weren’t allowed to. We all had shock collars on, and if we used words we… we learned quickly to just bark. We were only fed kibble and water, and made to use the puppy pads.”

_ Scenes taken from videos at WERES training camps, showing the degradation of the werewolves as they are ‘trained’ to be obedient slave-pets, plays before fading back to Lightman talking to Stephen. _

“And, after your training as a slave-pet, you were bought by Morden?”

“I… I don’t know, I just know I was taken and given to him,” Stephen replies.

“What happened then?” Stephen frowns in confusion at Lightman’s question, the counsellor quickly adding, “You were a new werewolf, with little training in being a slave-pet; how did Morden get you to quickly comply with his orders?”

“He… he threatened my wife and daughter,” Stephen’s voice cracks as he explains, “He had told them I had been rescued from the Alliance and was coming home. He allowed me to live with them, to be a family again. But, I had to return to him every day for training as his slave-pet and obey him; if I didn’t he would have my wife arrested for harbouring an unregistered slave-pet and have my daughter made a ward of the state and put into foster-care making sure everyone knew her father was a werewolf.”

“I…” he forces himself to continue, “I had to try and lead a double life, as a loving husband and father when I returned home at night, and as his obedient slave-pet every day. Eating kibble and drinking water from the bowls on the floor, performing… sexually for him, taking the beatings with belts, whips, canes. I…” he sobs, “I couldn’t hide what… she knew something was wrong, she asked me when I returned home every night… I couldn’t tell her. She’d been told I was suffering from PTSD and that my days were being spent in therapy and rehabilitation, that I was allowed home as they hoped familiar surroundings and people would help. But, I was being pulled further and further away from them. Eventually, he had me so conditioned to the flogging and whipping that I couldn’t… I couldn’t stay erect unless he, or someone he allowed, was flogging me. That’s when he told me I was going to kill President Palin, or my wife would be charged and my daughter would be taken into care.”

_ The scene of President Palin’s assassination replays, along with footage of Stephen’s wife stating she had no knowledge of him being a werewolf and denouncing the Alliance for turning her husband into a monster and brainwashing him. _

“You were shot with wolf’s bane laced bullets; how did you survive?”

“I thought when I was shot that I was dead; that I was free of him,” Stephen quietly states, “But, I woke up. I asked him why he didn’t let me die. He said, he wasn’t willing to lose a pet he’d invested time in training to his standards, a pet he could use to show the rest of the world how even the most dangerous feral killers from the Alliance can be brought to heel and made obedient. That if WERES can make an obedient slave-pet out of President Palin’s assassin, what feral dog can’t we train. I said it wasn’t true, but he replied, truth, is what I make it.”

“And he kept you as his slave-pet?”

“Yes. I knew I couldn’t fight him anymore, I just seemed to slip more and more into the role of the silent, obedient pet; performing on demand.”

“And he made modifications to your body.”

“At first it was just the piercings,” Stephen looks down towards his chest. A photo of him naked, with piercing in his cock and both his nipples, a length of heavy chain running between them. “Later, he made other changes.”

“When he had your penis and testes removed, and transplanted the ovaries and womb from a fertile female werewolf into you.”

Stephen silently nods.

_ The video shows pictures of the operation, and of documents of Dr Franklin’s experiments and procedures carried out with Morden’s sanction. The voice-over explaining exactly what their aims were. Increasing the birth rate of born werewolves, of ensuring they were more docile and submissive. Increasing the profits for the breeders of slave-pets. _

“There is no known way to undo the changes that Morden had done to you,” Lightman solemnly intones, “How does that make you feel?”

“He took everything from me, my wife, my daughter, my family, my life, my manhood. How do you think it makes me feel?” Stephen whines, “I hate him. I’m glad he’s dead. I wish I had been able to strike out at him and rip his throat out, but I couldn’t; he was my m… I couldn’t disobey him I…”

Stiles pulls him into his arms, scenting his beta and comforting him.

“This interview is over,” he states, his eyes flashing red into the camera.

****  
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦  
∞  
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 ****

Braeden is happy with the response to the video. Within hours of her team seeding it on several Union hosted servers it was gaining thousands of hits. By the next morning, those had become millions and it was the trending topic nationally. Very quickly the video was popping up on international sites; first Canada, then Europe, Central and South America, Australia… it spread around the world.

In its wake unrest and protests followed. The demand for the repeal of the Werewolf Enslavement legislation; the demand for the Liberation of the Lycans, and all therianthropes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ### Excerpt from Chapter-10
> 
>   
>  The closer the full moon became the harder Jackson was finding it to control his instincts around Danny, and he didn’t like it. He knows why. He knows what his wolven side is telling him; but, there is still that voice in his head telling him that he can’t forgive him. No matter how often Stiles and Lightman tell him that forgiving does not mean forgetting, or, you don’t need to forgive him for his redemption but to allow you to let go of your anger and move on.  
>   
> And really, that’s part of the problem. Jackson isn’t sure what moving on would mean. Forgiving Danny and moving on to find someone else? Forgiving Danny and starting to try and rebuild the friendship they had?  
> Either way, how can he now that everyone knows he still loves Danny. And that’s the other part of his problem. He hates what Danny did to him, but, he still loves him. No matter how often he asks Lightman why, the counsellor just tells replies with, _“why do you think you love him after what happened?”_  
>   
> 
> 
>   
>  **§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§**   
> 
> 
> His immediate problem is to find a place for the whole pack to spend the full moon. But instead of dealing with that, he is currently walking around the preserve looking at the burnt-out ruin of a house that used to belong to a family.  
> “The family moved out when the Alliance moved in; then some local kids thought they’d have some fun out here and ended up torching the place when the lit a fire in the kitchen to cook something,” Parrish is telling him, “The county has condemned the place and confiscated the land…”  
> “What about the family that moved out?” Stiles asks him, “Don’t they want it and the land back?”  
> “There’s no record of who they are, or anyone actually owning the land or being granted permission to build…”  
> “How is that possible?” Stiles turns to face his hellhound, “Somebody…”  
> “Lived here and built this house,” Parrish concedes, “Everyone in town knows that, only, no-one I talked to could remember who they were or when the house was built. There was nothing in the records at the county recorder’s office; I checked with the county clerk.”  
> “I want the land checked out,” Stiles tells him, “Something feels off about it.”  
> “We can check with the Druids,” Parrish states, “Given the Nemeton is not far from here, and would be on the land you’ll own…”  
> “If I buy it,” Stiles interjects.  
> “If you buy it,” Parrish smiles at him, “This is the centre of your territory; whether you buy it or not.”
> 
>   
>  **§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§**   
> 


	10. Chapter-10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has not been proof-read or edited; all mistakes are my own.  
>   
>   
> 
> 
>   
>  **§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§**  
> 

“This is a disaster!” Bachmann rails at her Chief of Staff, “That imbecile Boehner contradicts me. Vaughn makes that statement to the press. Now this video! What are we doing to counteract…?”

“There is no... very little we can do,” the very much harassed advisor comments, “After the European Union stated it believed in the authenticity of the photos and documents seen in the piece, and the UN then certified that the documents held by the Alliance Republic and seen in the video are authentic…” he trails off before rallying with, “Only the Prime Minister of Great Britain is calling for further investigation to confirm the…”

“Of course, she is,” Bachmann harrumphs, “Having left the EU without securing a trade deal and their economy now in free-fall, she’s desperate for allies to repair her damaged reputation; she needs me to sign the deal we discussed. She’d deal with Lucifer himself in the hope of holding off the rebellion in her own party.”

“We have another problem,” the Senior Advisor to the President says walking into the office; he picks up the TV remote and clicks on Fox News.

“That asinine back-stabbing son of a…” President Bachmann’s words are drowned out by the sound of shattering glass as the remote control she throws connects with the TV and the LED screen shatters.

“No-one even knew he was appearing on the show,” her Senior Advisor states, “Let alone that he was promising that…”

“We have to make it clear that he was not talking for this administration, that we have no intention of caving in to the demands of those bleeding-heart liberals and hold a vote on rescinding the Werewolf Enslavement Bill.” Bachmann screams at her Chief of Staff and Advisor, “WERES will crucify us over this. They already threw Morden, President Palin and my predecessor as her VP under the bus over those experiments.”

“We’ll find out what we can,” the Chief of Staff states, taking their leave; closely followed by the Senior Advisor.

Bachmann slumps into a chair, rubbing at her temple as her headache continues to worsen.

**  
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦∞♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦  
**

“Gentlemen, and ladies,” Vaughn bows slightly to the two women sitting around the boardroom table among the ten men.

“You are destroying everything we have worked so hard to achieve!” one of the grey-haired gentlemen rages at him.

“On the contrary,” Vaughn counters, “I am turning a very negative image situation around.”

“How?!” most the board demand as one.

“Because, now, it wasn’t WERES that conducting unethical experiments on upstanding US military personnel; it was Morden, it was NME, and it was the US government.”

“Several countries are already talking of rescinding their Therianthrope Enslavement Laws; it will effectively put us out of business in those…”

“Then we counsel them against such a move, and if they don’t listen then we suggest they allow Consensual Enslavement,” Vaugh smiles, “One thing that Morden was correct about, we could all learn from Alpha Stilinski-Hale.”

Later, with the board meeting finally over, Vaughn is resting in his office; the lighting dimmed, and the windows darkened as he sits in the plush leather wing-backed chair; the soft strains of Holst’s Venus, from The Planets Suite, played by the London Symphony Orchestra in the background.

“When was the last time you ate?” a young woman asks, closing and locking the office door behind her as she enters.

“That all depends on what you mean, Diana,” he smirks at her as she removes her blouse, and unfastens her bra, placing both items carefully on his desk as she walks towards him, “Something you want my dear?” he raises an eyebrow questioningly.

“Something you need,” she retorts, sitting in his lap, “And I don’t want to stain the white shirt I was wearing, I don’t have a spare one to change into. Now, you need to feed.”

“If you insist,” he smiles, cupping one of her breasts in his hand, turning his head slightly to the side, his feature shifting as two fangs drop and he leans forward sinking them into her breast in his hand.

“Mmmh,” she moans, her hand grasping in his hair at the back of his head, “The council are pleased with your progress so far, and Hellhound is teaching the young alpha more about the old ways,” she informs him as he drinks from her, as if it was an ordinary occurrence, “You were right about the alpha’s potential to be an ally.”

He draws back from his feeding, smiling at her with his lips painted crimson by her blood.

“Of course, when am I ever wrong?” he quips.

“Do you want me to list the occasions by the impact they had on us, or chronologically?” she asks, following up with, “There was the incident in nineteen twenty-nine…”

“You were not even born then,” he interrupts.

“No, but my family have been serving you since seventeen ninety-eight; we keep very good records.”

“Hopefully those records are…”

“Very well hidden and written in code,” she informs him, “Now, are you sated?” at his nod she continues, “Then I should get dressed, and you should get back to bringing WERES to its knees.”

**  
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦∞♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦  
**

The closer the full moon became the harder Jackson was finding it to control his instincts around Danny, and he didn’t like it. He knows why. He knows what his wolven side is telling him; but, there is still that voice in his head telling him that he can’t forgive him. No matter how often Stiles and Lightman tell him that forgiving does not mean forgetting, or, you don’t need to forgive him for his redemption but to allow you to let go of your anger and move on.

And really, that’s part of the problem. Jackson isn’t sure what moving on would mean. Forgiving Danny and moving on to find someone else? Forgiving Danny and starting to try and rebuild the friendship they had?

Either way, how can he now that everyone knows he still loves Danny. And that’s the other part of his problem. He hates what Danny did to him, but, he still loves him. No matter how often he asks Lightman why, the counsellor just tells replies with, “ _why do you think you love him after what happened?_ ”

_“Because I know him. I know he’s a good guy and that if he had thought about what happened rationally… he would never have done what he did to me.”_ He never replies, choosing to sit in silence at the question thrown back at him rather than voicing his answer.

He knows Danny was acting out of grief, and he knows he wasn’t listening to those around him. By the time Stiles intervened and spoke to him, it was already too late. But, are the thoughts in his head telling him to give Danny a second chance the voice of reason or the howls of his wolven nature that want him to give in to his instincts? 

Either way, he’s glad that when Danny is lying naked across his lap for his morning spanking that he is clothed and that the human cannot smell the arousal, or feel the erection, that the sight of his upturned ass turning red under his striking hand causes. A strain on his control of his instincts that is only increased by the scent of Danny’s own leaking member straining against the cock cage keeping his length from achieving its full potential. There scents mingling and the redolence of _them_ seeming so right.

He just needs to maintain his control until after the full moon. Then things will become easier.

**  
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦∞♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦  
**

They’d argued again.

They seem to argue more often since she woke up. And that has only increased over time. Part of it is his fault; Jacob knows that. He knows he’s not being a good slave-pet like he used to be. But, Allison is not being a good owner. She isn’t telling him what to do. She isn’t punishing him when he acts out and argues.

Their latest argument was over Dr Crane. The man had recommended that Jacob is not allowed to have the special agreement like Scott, Isaac, and Danny have with Alpha Stiles. Allison said she won’t appeal the decision.

_ “Don’t you want to own me?” he wailed at her. _

_ “No, nobody should be owned,” Allison stepped towards him with a hand outstretched, ready to pet him. _

_ “Why?!” he shouts jerking back out of her reach, “Why don’t you want… I thought you liked me…” _

_ “I do like you, we’re friends…” _

_ “But Alpha Stiles owns Scotty and…” _

_ “No, he doesn’t own them, but he is responsible for them…”  _

_ “You can be responsible for me, and I can be your slave-pet again like I should be,” he pleads. _

_ “No Jay, you shouldn’t be anyone’s slave-pet…” _

_ “You think I’m a bad slave-pet…” the hurt and anger at her words clear in his voice. _

Before she could reply he bolted out of the house and headed to the only place he could think of. His Alpha’s house.

Alpha Stiles wasn’t there. He and Derek had taken the twins to visit with Laura and Glenn. Scott and Isaac were visiting Scott’s mom. Jackson had taken Danny to visit with his parents. Stiles’ dad was working. Only Stephen was in.

“You want to wait with me until they get home?” Stephen asks him.

Jacob nods his head and follows him into the house and down into the den.

They sit in silence watching TV.

Stephen can tell that something is bothering the young man… wolf… werewolf. It’s making him feel uncomfortable; like he wants to worry or gnaw at something.

“What’s wrong?” he snaps, making Jacob jump from the couch. Stephen continues, “Something is wrong, and you smell… sad and angry. It’s making me feel wrong!”

“She doesn’t want me anymore,” Jacob states as he starts pacing, “We argue a lot and now she won’t go and tell the doctor that he has to let me have a special arrangement with her, like Alpha has with Scotty and Isaac, and Danny. She doesn’t like me anymore and doesn’t want me to be her slave-pet, and I want to be good for her. I want to protect her and look after her; like I did when she was sleeping in the hospital and… I don’t know what to do to make her want me again.”

Stephen quickly rises and wraps the younger wolf in his arms; scenting him instinctually to try and comfort him.

“Maybe,” he starts, trying to think how to explain to the bred wolf, “Maybe she does like you, but, she doesn’t want to own you because she knows most werewolves don’t want to be owned…”

“But I do, I want to be like Scotty and Isaac…”

“But, Alpha doesn’t own Scotty and Isaac,” Stephen states. Jacob pulls back from him and looks confused.

“But, they wear his collar and call him Master,” Jacob counters.

“Yes, but,” Stephen struggles on how to describe their – to him – complex relationship, “They’re more like pretending, Scotty and Isaac can tell Alpha ‘No’; when Allison owned you, you weren’t allowed to say ‘No’ to her were you? You had to do what she said.”

“Why would they say ‘No’?”

“If Alpha told them to do something they didn’t want to.”

“Then they’re not pretending properly,” Jacob frowns, “Slave-pets don’t get to say ‘No’; they have to be good for their Master.”

“Did you like having to do something you didn’t like? I know I didn’t,” Stephen shudders at the memory of things he was made to do.

“What didn’t you like to do?” Jacob asks conspiratorially.

“I…” Stephen scrambles for something he can share with the innocent wolf, “I didn’t like sucking on toes and licking his feet. His feet smelled really bad, like rotten eggs, and were very sweaty and he would have bits of fluff between his toes.”

“Ewww, that’s nasty,” Jacob scrunches up his face, “Why did he make you do that?”

“Because he could,” Stephen shrugs; it’s true, but he doesn’t want to get into explaining it was a prelude to sex. Or that eventually, he didn’t mind sucking cock or getting fucked in the ass; that he started to look forward to those. Even started to like being flogged; even needing some pain before he could… Those are things he doesn’t want to admit to.

“But Ali would never make me do something like that… she’s nice.”

“Yeah, so, you know she’s not trying to hurt you by not trying to get the consensual enslavement contract for you,” Stephen carefully says, “So, she must think it wouldn’t be a good idea. Why do you really want it anyway?”

“To make sure no-one can take me away from her!” Jacob says like it was obvious.

“But no-one can,” Stephen counters, “This isn’t the Union, there is no werewolf enslavement, you get to be with whoever you want; as long as they also want to be with you…”

“But if we had a contract…”

“The Alliance could decide to end the contract, just like they have to agree to it being allowed to start. When Alpha, Scotty, Isaac, and Danny go for those meeting every so often, it’s for the Alliance to decide if they get to remain in the contract.”

“They can stop Scotty and Isaac belonging to Alpha?!” 

“They don’t belong to him, remember? They…”

“Pretend.”

“Yeah, for fun, because they like to,” Stephen smiles at the younger wolf, “So, the Alliance can say that they don’t have the legally recognised contract…”

“But,” their Alpha’s voice comes from the doorway, “They cannot stop us playing or take them from my pack; they are mine.”

“Alpha,” both Stephen and Jacob call out.”

“What’s going on guys? What’s all the talk about my relationship with Scott and Isaac?”

At their Alpha’s question, Stephen looks to Jacob.

“They won’t let me have a contract with Allison like Scott and Isaac have with you,” Jacob whines, “And Allison said she wouldn’t challenge them over it, and… and I think she doesn’t want me anymore.”

“I’ll go put these two down for a nap,” Derek smiles at Stiles as he walks past, “And let you guys talk.”

“Okay, Der,” Stiles replies, turning his attention back to Jacob, “What reason did they give for refusing the contract?”

“I…” Jacob frowns, “I… don’t know; they said they weren’t allowing me to have a contract.”

“I’ll ask Allison,” Stiles smiles, ruffling the beta’s hair as he speed-dials Allison on his phone. “Hey, Allison.”

“Stiles, Jay’s missing, I’m heading to the Centre to see…”

“Jacob’s here, he was talking with Stephen when Derek and I got back…”

“Oh, thank god!” Allison exclaims, “I’ll be right over.”

“Yeah, he seems a little upset about not getting to have a consensual enslavement contract, and a little hazy on the reason they said no. You wouldn’t happen to have been there when they told him would you?”

“The counsellor believes that Jay is seeking to have a contract for the wrong reasons; that he doesn’t fully understand what they are and doesn’t fully know what he’s asking for…”

“I do know what I’m asking for!” Jacob calls out.

“Jay,” Stiles sharply scolds him, “It is not polite to listen into someone else’s private conversation; even if it is about you.” Stiles resumes his conversation with Allison, “Okay Ali, see you soon. I’ll see if I can get him to understand their decision, it’s what I expected; I just thought he might have worked that out for himself during the counselling.”

“You… thanks, we’ll talk when I get there,” Allison cut the call.

“Okay Jacob,” Stiles smiles at him, “Let’s sit down and talk.”

“So,” Stiles begins, with Jacob sitting on the couch beside Stephen and scowling at his alpha, “I get that you’re upset about the decision, but,” he continues aborting Jacob’s reply, “Given they think you don’t fully know what you’re asking for, and I agree with them,” his words making Jacob growl in anger that his alpha was not siding with him, “Explain to me why you want an enslavement contract like Scott and Isaac?”

“I want to stay with Allison,” he states.

“You do, you live with Allison and her father,” Stiles replies.

“But it’s not like it was, I want things how they were,” Jacob growls.

“How are things different?” Stephen asked before Stiles had the chance.

“I told you!” Jacob snaps at him, then notices that Stephen is looking at their alpha. Jacob turns to Stiles and says, “We argue since she woke up, a lot, and since I don’t get to be with her all day like I used to.”

“But you still spend most of your time with her,” Stiles says.

“But I get made to go to school and I don’t get to stay with Allison when we’re there; like I used to. I used to sit under her desk while she was learning, now I get made to go and sit at other desks and Allison isn’t there and I need to answer questions and I don’t always know the answer and it’s not fair.” Jacob rambles in response.

“I don’t always know the answers to the questions the teachers ask either,” Stiles says, “Nor does Allison. They ask the questions so that when someone doesn’t know they can hear the answer from someone else and remember it; that’s how we learn.”

“I don’t want to,” Jacob pouts, “I want things like they were before, where I stayed with Allison and I was her slave-pet?”

“Why?” Stiles asks.

“Because, that’s how it was,” Jacob states.

“That’s not an answer, Jay,” Stiles pushes, “Why do you want things the way they were?” Jacob frowns, pouting under his alpha’s gaze.

“Is it…” Stephen has an inkling at what might be behind Jacob’s desire for a contract, something he has been considering for himself, only being put off the idea because he knows his alpha wants him to be more independent, “Is it because…”

“No prompting him,” Stiles stops him suggesting the reason.

“It’s what I know, it’s what I was good at,” Jacob harrumphs at his alpha being so mean to him, “Before I had to stop eating werewolf food and started arguing with Allison…”

“Kibble was not werewolf food,” Stiles corrects him, “It was a drug to make werewolves slave-pets and make them obey; even when they didn’t want to. Werewolves eat the same food humans do; maybe with a bit more meat and protein.”

“Jay?! You’re not complaining about not getting to eat kibble again?” Allison’s voice calls from the doorway. Jacob startles at the sound but, both Stiles and Stephen seemed to be expecting her. “How could you like that stuff? Every other werewolf I know says it was bland and probably tasted like sawdust…” 

“I don’t think he liked eating it,” Stiles interrupts her, “Did you?” he prompts the beta. Jacob, knowing he can’t lie to his alpha, shakes his head.

“Then why?” she looks at him confused. Stiles looks at him with an expression that says tell her the truth.

“Because,” he whines, “Because I was good when I ate it and you liked me; I belonged to you and you were mine too. I didn’t need to know stuff, because you would tell me what I needed. I knew what I was to do because you told me. I didn’t have to decide things for myself; I just had to obey. It was easy,” he takes a deep breath, fighting down the tears and sobs that threaten to erupt, “It’s not easy now, and I argue with you, and you don’t like me anymore.”

“Jay!” Allison exclaims, clearly shocked at his words, “We’re still friends even though we argue. I still like you.”

“You still like me?” Jacob smiles at her words, “Even though I’m not your slave-pet?”

“Yes Jay,” she answers with a chuckle, “You’re like a brother to me…”

“Brother?” the smile falls from Jacob’s lips, “Like Jackson is Alpha’s brother?” Allison’s answering nod to his question pulls a broken whine from his throat filling in the missing information that Jacob has never voiced, and Allison had never guessed.

“Oh!” Allison startles at the realisation, “Jay, I’m sorry, but, I’ve never thought of you as more than a good friend, like a brother to me. I didn’t know you… I’m sorry, I just don’t see you as more than that; I don’t…”

“You don’t like me!” Jacob sobs.

“I do like you,” Allison exclaims, “Just, not the way you want me to.”

“Jay,” Stiles firmly states, getting the beta’s attention away from Allison, “You know how I love Jackson, right?” at Jacob’s tentative nod, “Allison loves you the same way I love Jackson. It’s different from how I love Derek, Scotty, and Isaac, but, it’s no less…”

“But you love them more!” Jacob cries.

“No, not more, just differently,” Stiles corrects him, “I love my brother just as much as I love my mates, but the way I love him is not the same. I don’t have sex with my brother. Jackson doesn’t submit to me the way Scotty, Isaac, and Derek do; he submits to me as his alpha, like the rest of my betas do. I don’t love him any less. And Allison doesn’t love you any less.”

“But, you don’t want me like Alpha wants Derek, Scotty, and Isaac?” Jacob looks to Allison and asks.

“Jay,” Allison starts, the wolves in the room can already smell her distress, her sadness at knowing her answer will hurt him, but, she can’t lie; she has to be truthful in a room full of werewolves, “I’m sorry, I don’t like you that way. You’re like family, I like you as a friend, and I see you as a brother…” 

Jacob leaps over the back of the couch and runs into his alpha’s bedroom; he needs to be away from her; he feels like his heart is shattering into tiny pieces. Stiles sees Stephen move as if to follow and then stop…

“Stephen, go check on him and make sure he’s okay,” the alpha commands him. Stephen quickly rises from the couch and heads into his alpha’s bedroom after the other beta. When the door closes behind the beta, Stiles turns to Allison, “Maybe Jay should stay here tonight,” he suggests, “We can set a bed up for him in here with Stephen.”

“I… I never meant to hurt him like that,” Allison stumbles, the pain she feels clear in her voice and scent.

“I know, and it’s not like you could have lied about it,” Stiles comforts her, “Too many werewolves in the room,” he tries to get a smile from her, “It’s better he knows how you feel, so he can work out what his own feelings really are.”

“You think he doesn’t love me the way he says?” Allison’s expression quizzical as she looks at Stiles.

“I think, you were the first owner he had, the first person he looked up to and felt any kind of affection or care from,” he answers, “With the kibble affecting him, and being bred and raised in the training facilities, I think he needs time to look at things objectively.”

“And you believe he can realise that he doesn’t love me?” she asks.

“Oh, he loves you,” Stiles answers, confusing her, “As you love him; it’s just that neither of you is **_in_** love with the other. It’s like you said, you’re like brother and sister; you’re family.”

**  
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦∞♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦  
**

Stephen walks into his alpha’s bedroom and finds Jacob on the bed wrapped around their alpha’s mate; sobbing with his head pressed against Derek’s neck and Derek’s hand rubbing at his back. Derek looks over Jacob’s head at Stephen standing between the door and the bed.

“Alpha sent me to check on him,” Stephen explains.

“Well, climb up here and comfort him while I go talk to Stiles,” Derek states.

Hesitantly, Stephen crawls onto the large bed. He reaches out and strokes Jacob’s back, the boy turns, untangling himself from their alpha’s mate, and curls into Stephen’s arms.

Freed from Jacob’s octopus-like grip, Derek rises from the bed and heads out of the room; leaving the two betas alone, surrounded by the scent of their alpha and his mates.

“I get wanting the contract,” Stephen murmurs against Jacob’s ear, “I thought about asking Alpha for one when he first brought me into the pack. It would be something familiar, something I was used to, and I’d know what was expected of me. But, I realised that wasn’t what he wanted of me. Alpha wants me to be independent, to learn, or relearn, how to make my own decisions, to find what I want to do, who I want to be; and be with. I think that’s what Allison wants for you too.”

“Would that make her not think of me as her brother?” Jacob mumbles.

“No,” Stephen replies, “But it would make her proud of you. Wouldn’t you want to make your sister proud of you?”

“But, she isn’t my sister,” Jacob says, his words almost a whisper.

“Maybe not by blood,” Stephen purports, “But, if she is thinking of you as her brother rather than her slave-pet, doesn’t that kinda make her your sister?”

**  
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦∞♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦  
**

There are only a couple of days until the full moon. Jacob has remained at the pack den in the Stilinski house. It has made Stiles realise that he needs to consider finding a larger place for him, his kids, his mates, and other pack members to live. There just isn’t the room in the den, or the house, for everyone that is currently staying there.

His immediate problem is to find a place for the whole pack to spend the full moon. But instead of dealing with that, he is currently walking around the preserve looking at the burnt-out ruin of a house that used to belong to a family.

“The family moved out when the Alliance moved in; then some local kids thought they’d have some fun out here and ended up torching the place when the lit a fire in the kitchen to cook something,” Parrish is telling him, “The county has condemned the place and confiscated the land…”

“What about the family that moved out?” Stiles asks him, “Don’t they want it and the land back?”

“There’s no record of who they are, or anyone actually owning the land or being granted permission to build…”

“How is that possible?” Stiles turns to face his hellhound, “Somebody…”

“Lived here and built this house,” Parrish concedes, “Everyone in town knows that, only, no-one I talked to could remember who they were or when the house was built. There was nothing in the records at the county recorder’s office; I checked with the county clerk.”

“I want the land checked out,” Stiles tells him, “Something feels off about it.”

“We can check with the Druids,” Parrish states, “Given the Nemeton is not far from here, and would be on the land you’ll own…”

“If I buy it,” Stiles interjects.

“If you buy it,” Parrish smiles at him, “This is the centre of your territory; whether you buy it or not.”

“And it would give my pack a lot of space to enjoy on the full moon,” Stiles contemplates as they head back towards the car; there’s sixty-acres of land that is mostly forest surrounding the clearing where the house used to be. Both of them still as they sense they are being watched. “Is it the same two that were watching us in town?” Stiles asks, “I didn’t notice them following us out here.”

“I think…” Parrish doesn’t get to finish answering before a large, shifted beta werewolf is leaping out of the trees at him, while another rushes at Stiles.

Stiles is knocked to the ground, but as his assailant rises over him to strike again, he manages to pull his legs up between them and pushes the man back with his full force. Grasping at the ground to get to his feet he wishes he had something to hand to restrain the guy who’s rushing at him again, only to trip on the root of a tree, only… Stiles can see the root is wrapping around the guy’s ankle and winding up his leg. The man begins to panic as he’s pulled back towards the tree and other roots push up out of the ground and wrap wound him; he screams, “No, no, help me, please...”

Stiles turns to see the other beta running from his, now naked and burning, hellhound. He runs to the car thinking of finding a weapon, a bat or something to hit the guy with only… a thick branch of one of the trees creaks and slams into werewolf assailant number two, cracking his skull. Some of the twigs on the branch rapidly grow and thicken, wrapping around the guy’s neck as the branch and twigs drag him off the ground and into the air; hanging from the branch. He never makes a sound.

“Stiles?!” Parrish steps cautiously towards him.

“What… what happened? How did the trees attack them?” Stiles asks.

“You… you used magic,” the enforcer replies.

“I don’t have magic!” the alpha scoffs, giving the hellhound a derisory look.

“Stiles your eyes are glowing, and it’s not your normal alpha red,” Parrish states, “The red is flecked with silver. You performed magic; the trees answered your call.”

“Well now, what?!” Stiles throws his hands up in an exaggerated shrug before resting them on his hips.

“First, we find out why Alpha Quinn's betas attacked you,” Parrish says.

“I thought my enforcer would already know,” Stiles quips.

“Sorry I failed you,” Parrish snorts in reply.

“I wasn’t being serious…”

“Neither was I.”

“So, we find out about Quinn’s betas attacking,” Stiles glowers at Parrish, but the hellhound knows it’s in jest, “Then what?”

“Then we raise it with the werewolf council and the Alliance, and while all that is being dealt with, we also have Deaton tell us what he knows about you being a Spark.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ### Excerpt from Chapter-11
> 
>   
>   
>  “We’re two omegas,” Aiden growls at his brother, “We can’t just turn up at his house now; we should have asked permission to remain in his territory weeks ago…”  
> “And would have except that you didn’t want to face him, or his second,” Ethan rolls his eyes, “Too scared that Jackson would…”  
> “I was not scared,” Aiden protests, “I just don’t want to grovel at his feet.”  
> “We need to warn them about the hunters we overheard, we need to get involved in his pack’s business; hell, you know I think we should be, as you put it, _‘grovelling at his feet’_ ,” Ethan makes air-quotes as he rolls his eyes at his brother’s exaggeration, “To be allowed in his pack…”  
> “What? You really think any of them are gonna allow us in their pack after… after what happened.”  
> “You mean after what you did? Probably not, but, every other pack that has shown any interest in us you’ve rejected. So, what other pack do you want to grovel to?”“We’re two omegas,” Aiden growls at his brother, “We can’t just turn up at his house now; we should have asked permission to remain in his territory weeks ago…”  
> “And would have except that you didn’t want to face him, or his second,” Ethan rolls his eyes, “Too scared that Jackson would…”  
> “I was not scared,” Aiden protests, “I just don’t want to grovel at his feet.”  
> “We need to warn them about the hunters we overheard, we need to get involved in his pack’s business; hell, you know I think we should be, as you put it, ‘grovelling at his feet’,” Ethan makes air-quotes as he rolls his eyes at his brother’s exaggeration, “To be allowed in his pack…”  
> “What? You really think any of them are gonna allow us in their pack after… after what happened.”  
> “You mean after what you did? Probably not, but, every other pack that has shown any interest in us you’ve rejected. So, what other pack do you want to grovel to?”  
>   
>   
> 
> 
>   
>  **§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§**  
> 
> 
>  
> 
> Stiles had not been able to shake the antsy feeling all day. He was putting it down to the full moon, but, he was feeling more on edge than he had the previous full moons. He parked to the side of the cabin he’d rented, and Jackson pulled up beside him. Between the two cars they had all nine wolves and one hellhound.  
> Jacob was already getting over-excited to be back out in the woods for the full moon. He was barely out of the car before he was stripping off his clothing.  
> “Jay, we unload the cars first, eat, and then we can get naked and run,” Stiles calls after him.  
> “I’m with Jay,” Jackson laughs, pulling his shirt over his head, “Naked first, then unpack the cars,” he adds, dropping his pants and stepping out of them.  
> “Jacks, do you really want to be naked standing next to the grill cooking the steaks for dinner?” Stiles asks with a smirk. Jackson pulls his pants back up as he scowls/pouts at his alpha.


	11. Chapter-11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has not been proof-read or edited. All mistakes are my own.  
>   
> 
> 
>   
>  **§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§**   
> 
> 
>  

The meeting was not going well.

It didn’t help that it was the day before the full moon, and the room was filled with alpha werewolves throwing accusations back and forth across the table. It wasn’t exactly the meeting Stiles had envisioned when he and Parrish marched into his mom’s office the day before with the evidence they had regarding the two of betas that attacked him. He didn’t expect that a full werewolf council meeting would be called; he thought it would just be the local Alliance council. And, he didn’t expect that it would happen the next day; especially given the extremely close proximity of the full moon.

Across the table from him, Quinn is protesting the innocence of his two betas, claiming that “they would not arbitrarily attack the local _‘alpha’_ ”, which he sneers in his usual derisory way when he’s referring to Stiles, and that Stiles, “must have done something to provoke them”. The cacophony of voices shouting rises again from the dozen alphas in the room and Stiles has had enough.

“ **SHUT THE FUCK UP! ALL OF YOU JUST BE FUCKING QUIET!** ” he roars. The room falls silent as everyone stares at him; their mouths either agape or firmly closed shut. “Now…”

“Sorry to interrupt,” a voice says behind him. Stiles, and the other alphas in the room, turn to see Isabella Novak with Deaton and a man Stiles doesn’t recognise standing there; Isabella continues, “But, none of you seemed aware of us entering the room and…”

“This is werewolf business and no other creature is…” Quinn seethes in his normal pompous manner.

“Really,” the unknown man smirks at him, “Then why is the Mage present?”

“We don’t know that he…” Deaton begins.

“Oh, come on Alan! Just look at the silver sparks in his ruby red eyes. You can’t still think there is a chance he’s a Druid,” the man states, waving an arm carelessly in Stiles direction.

“That is why we need the Council to test him and determine is he falls within the Emissary Council or the Magister College,” Deaton calmly states.

“As the man with the silver sparks in his ruby red eyes,” Stiles growls, “Just what the fuck are you talking about testing me for, and don’t you think I should decide if I want to be tested for anything?”

“Of course,” Isabella states, “That’s why I’m here are your counsel on all things related to the Council of Thirteen.”

“Good,” Stiles smiles at her then, turning to Deaton and Mysterio he asks, “Just what is with the silver sparks in my eyes?”

“Just another sign of how you’re not a real alpha,” Quinn both sneers and snarls from the other side of the table.

Stiles leaps on to the table, stretching out across towards Quinn; he partially shifts and roars at the man. The roar bellows out, shattering the glass bottles of water that are on the table, the water spilling across the table top, and vibrating the windows. Quinn is cowering on the floor; some of the younger alphas in the room are baring their necks, and the others are fighting the instinct to do so.

“I AM AN ALPHA WEREWOLF!” Stiles roars at Quinn as he remains curled in on himself on the floor, “AND I WILL NOT TAKE YOUR SNIDE, SNEERING, DEROGATORY COMMENTS ANY MORE!” Stiles shifts back, but his eyes remain their red and silver, “Seriously, is that why your betas attacked me? Because of how you derided me in front of them, constantly putting me down, they decided to remove me for being in your way?”

“That’s speculation Stiles,” his mom states.

“It is,” Stiles agrees, “But, it’s based on observed behaviour by Alpha Quinn that several of you in this room have witnessed. So, given the number of alphas in this room, the following statement I am about to make can be verified as true. Neither I, nor any member of my pack, have met, let alone provoked Alpha Quinn’s betas in any way. Their attack on me and my Sentinel was unprovoked. The trees in the preserve retaliated, killing them both.” There’s a murmur of wonder through the werewolves at the final statement.

“And that was the first time the silver appeared in your eyes?” Deaton asks.

“Yes,” Stiles answers him before turning his attention back to Quinn, “Now, I don’t know what sanctions this werewolf council can or wants to impose on Alpha Quinn, but, Beacon Hills is my territory and I hold him responsible for his betas actions. So, I am decreeing that he and every member of his pack must be out of my territory before the full moon tomorrow night. Understood?”

“You… you can’t…” Quinn whines as finally looks up from the floor at Stiles, who is still standing on the conference table.

“He can,” Alpha Alcide Herveaux states, “And I, for one, think you should consider yourself lucky that he hasn’t ripped your throat out.”

Stiles leans down towards Quinn and growls lowly, but loud enough for the other wolves to hear, “I don’t take threats or attacks against any of my pack lightly. If you and your pack are not out of Beacon Hills by the full moon I will hunt you all down,” his eyes blaze with dark red and flashes of silver, “And you do not want that.”

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦  
∞  
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

“That was quite the forceful display,” his mom quietly says when most of the werewolves have left.

“I need them all to know I will protect my pack, myself, and my territory,” Stiles whispers back.

“As well you should,” Alpha Herveaux says, causing Stiles and his mom to turn and see him smile at Stiles, “Quinn has long needed a reminder that he is not the arbiter of what is and is not werewolf tradition, or the right way to do things. And thanks to your display of dominance he will find he has far less influence than he’s used to throwing around.”

“Alcide, I didn’t know you were still here,” Stiles greets him.

“I wanted to discuss what we talked about last time we met,” Alcide says, “Maybe would could arrange to talk later?”

“Would you be around after the full moon?” Stiles asks, guessing that Alcide is referring to his talk of ‘working together’, Stiles is wary of what that might entail and would rather not talk about it with the full moon possibly affecting his decisions, “I’ve got a lot to arrange before then…”

“And we need to test your spark,” Deaton throws into the mix.

“Indeed, we need to determine which faction of the Council of Thirteen you align with,” the man Stiles doesn’t know adds.

“I’m a werewolf,” Stiles states, “And any testing of my magical spark can wait until after the full moon. I have arrangements to make for my pack and…”

“You clearly are werewolf but, and this is not a trivial matter, there has not been a creature that crossed species in most of my lifetime; certainly not a werewolf. So, finding where your talents lie, and the non-werewolf Council you belong in is very important,” the as yet unintroduced gentleman interrupts.

“Archmage Bane, Supreme of the Traditions,” Alcide responds, “As you have recognised that Alpha Stilinski-Hale is a werewolf, you must allow for his need to take care of his pack during the full moon; which you know covers the day before and after the…”

“Alpha Herveaux, I know it’s been a while since we met, and this time you are clothed, but, to be so formal…?” Archmage Bane smiles at Alcide.

“Last time we met,” Alcide scowls at him, “I was shifted and running with my pack during the full moon; we aren’t around Eagle Lake now. You were the first non-werewolf supernatural I had ever encountered, and you did introduce yourself so formally that night while I stood there naked.”

“And looked every bit as regal as you do now,” Bane smirks.

“We are straying off topic,” Deaton states.

“Into the territory of a day-time soap,” Stiles adds, quizzically looking between the mage and Alcide. Turning to Deaton he asks, “Haven’t you taken enough samples of my blood to do whatever test you need to carry out?”

“This needs to be carried out in person, and the sooner we complete the testing the better,” the Druid intones.

“Way to sound ominous,” Stiles stares at him.

“There are three supernatural councils that believe you may be connected to them,” Isabella informs him, “The Magister College, The Emissary Council, and the Parliament of the Evanuris.”

“Okay, I know about two of those,” Stiles slowly states, “Who are the Evanuris?”

“The Sidhe,” his mom almost whispers with a hint of fear in her voice.

“The… you mean like the Fair Folk? Fairies? Elves? Legolas, Celeborn, Elrond, and Galadriel?” Stiles blurts out; the glee bubbling in every word like a kid waking on Christmas morning to find his most wished for toy under the tree, “There are actual, real, living, middle earth like elves?”

“They cannot be trusted,” his mother says through gritted teeth.

“You would know,” the mage quips.

“Magnus!” his mom glares at the mage.

“Magnus?” Stiles quizzes the mage, “I thought your name was Bane? Like one of the most powerful super-villains in Gotham City…”

“While I may have genius-level intellect, I most certainly do not have venom-driven super-human strength,” the mage retorts, “My name is Magnus Bane. And I’m far better looking than Tom Hardy.”

“Yeah, but,” Stiles turns back to his mom, “How do you know his name? When did you meet with someone from the Magister College?”

“A long time ago,” his mom sighs, “Before you were even conceived.”

Deaton, Bane, Isabella and Alcide were the only ones left in the room as Stiles listened to his mom as she explained.

“Prior to being attacked by the ‘rogue alpha’ that had ‘escaped’ from the NME laboratories, I was a mage; my spark of magic was snuffed out as the attack of the alpha turned me into a werewolf.

“The testing that Deaton now wants to carry out on you had shown that my spark came from the Sidhe that had interbred with my mother’s maternal line more than two dozen generations before. It was weaker than your grandmother’s spark; it had been weakening with each generation for some time.

“The results of those tests had also shown that my spark had also come from the magic in my father’s lineage. A spark that was dormant in him but, had ignited in me. That gave me a choice. I could align with the Parliament or I could choose the College. I chose the College and joined the Traditions. The Sidhe were not pleased.”

“To say the least,” Magnus snorts; derision dripping from every word.

“Bane,” Alcide growls, “Let her finish.”

“So,” Claudia continues, seeing the intense deep thought written on Stiles’ face, “Your father is unaware that I ever had magic; we weren’t living Bewitched, with me as Samantha and your dad as Darren…”

“Pity,” Stiles interjects, “I could totally see Grandma Gajos as Endora.” Claudia laughs, a lightness returning to her eyes as she chuckles at the thought.

“Yes, she truly would have played that role to the hilt,” she smiles before the maudlin returns as she continues, “She wasn’t happy when she found out I was turning and losing my mage spark. She still helped Deaton and I fake my death…”

“I haven’t seen her since she returned to Poland after your ‘funeral’,” Stiles comments, “She still sent cards for my birthday and at Christmas.”

“She did?” Claudia asks, Deaton taking a sudden interest too.

“Yeah?!” Stiles drawls out the questioning reply.

“She was not happy with something that I had Deaton do once I realised I was losing my magic,” Stiles looks between them, waiting for an explanation, “I knew that the spark had been weakening with each generation. So, even though the chance of you having any spark after I was turned was low, I wanted to protect you from dealing with the supernatural world that you knew nothing of. I asked him to strip any lingering spark from you. I’m guessing now,” she turns to glower at Deaton, “That you lied to me about there being no spark.”

“Yes,” Deaton states, “I could sense a hint of magic. I didn’t see a reason to remove it, there was no indication that it would come to anything. However, since his interaction with Derek his spark has grown into something far stronger than has been in your family line for more than five generations.”

“The force is strong with this one,” Magnus quotes.

“As a Sith Lord see yourself, do you?” Stiles tries to impersonate Yoda as he side-eyes the mage.

“I think I’d make a better Yoda,” the mage states, “I’m old enough but, I’m too tall and good-looking.”

“Ha,” Stiles snorts.

“Did she send anything in the cards?” Claudia returns the conversation to cards her mother sent Stiles.

“No, they just had the same poem written in them every year,” Stiles says, his expression changing as the thought comes to him, “Oh, oh, was that some sort of spell?”

“Can you remember what the poem was?” Deaton asks.

“Off by heart,” Stiles replies, “Oh, you want me to tell you. It was… well, it was I Polish but, roughly translated I think it was…

I call to the light of  
silver rays  
from deep within the Sangreal  
Come, relight the spark within me  
For wolves who walk  
with cunning skill  
Come to my aid!  
Come at my will!”

“What has she done?” Claudia whispers, sharing a look with Deaton.

“What?” Stiles looks between his mom and Deaton.

“I believe,” Deaton states, “That we should complete the testing of your abilities before jumping to conclusions.”

“There will be no testing until I know what you’re thinking,” Stiles insists, his demanding gaze alternating between Deaton and his mom, “So, one of you better start talking.”

“Your grandmother’s spell,” Magnus grins, “May have both tapped into your elven ancestry, hence the silver in your eyes, and called your mother’s spark to you. Both then lay dormant for some reason.”

“Purely speculatively, it may have been that your own spark was finding a way to integrate those into itself,” Deaton states, adding, “And we don’t know what affect the werewolf bite on your mother while she was pregnant with you had, nor do we know what the experimentation NME carried out had. All reasons not to delay testing.”

“After the full moon,” Stiles firmly states, “Now, I’ve got a pack to make arrangements for. Alcide, talk to my Sentinel to arrange a meeting,” Stiles says, exchanging contact information with the other alpha.

“Will do,” Alcide smiles and shakes his hand.

Stiles heads out of the room, he needs time to digest the information he just got; he overhears the mage, Magnus comment to his mom, “He reminds me a lot of you.”

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦  
∞  
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

“We’re two omegas,” Aiden growls at his brother, “We can’t just turn up at his house now; we should have asked permission to remain in his territory weeks ago…”

“And would have except that you didn’t want to face him, or his second,” Ethan rolls his eyes, “Too scared that Jackson would…”

“I was not scared,” Aiden protests, “I just don’t want to grovel at his feet.”

“We need to warn them about the hunters we overheard, we need to get involved in his pack’s business; hell, you know I think we should be, as you put it, ‘ _grovelling at his feet_ ’,” Ethan makes air-quotes as he rolls his eyes at his brother’s exaggeration, “To be allowed in his pack…”

“What? You really think any of them are gonna allow us in their pack after… after what happened.”

“You mean after what you did? Probably not, but, every other pack that has shown any interest in us you’ve rejected. So, what other pack do you want to grovel to?”

“Really? You want to be in a pack with your ex-boyfriend and see him making out with the human he dumped you for? The human that humiliated and abused him? And I could see the pity in every other packs’ eyes when they looked at me. I don’t want their pity.”

“Ha, Stiles certainly doesn’t pity you,” Ethan snorts, “And I can live with Jackson choosing Danny over me. I’m not happy about it but, given how angry he was at what Danny had done to him, his feelings for the guy must be pretty strong if he is dating the guy now.”

“He’s not,” a voice at their back startles them; they turn to see Danny standing there in nothing but a pair of hot pink short-shorts, his pink collar, and a pair of pink Croc’s on his feet.

“How the hell did you sneak up on us like that?” Aiden growls at him.

“I didn’t sneak up on you,” Danny replies, “You were both so engrossed in your argument you didn’t hear me. What are you doing here?”

“We came to talk to Alpha Stilinski-Hale,” Ethan answers while Aiden grinds his teeth.

“My Master is with the wolves of his pack, they’ve gone out to a place he rented in the preserve to spend the full moon,” Danny answers, “I only came back to pick up something I forgot before heading back to my parents for the night. You’ll need to come back tomorrow, or...”

“That would be too late,” Aiden says, a worried look passing between him and his brother.

“Do you know where in the preserve they are?” Ethan asks.

“Why?”

“It doesn’t concern you,” Aiden growls, “If you know then tell us.”

“If it involves my pack then it concerns me,” Danny defiantly states.

“We came to tell him about a group of hunters we overheard talking about going hunting for wolves in the preserve,” Ethan says, as Aiden looks at him with consternation, “If they are in the preserve tonight, it might be them the hunters are after. Can you tell us where they are?”

“I’ll lead you there, you have a car?” Danny asks.

“You’re not coming with us,” Aiden states.

“Then I’ll call Allison and we’ll go without you,” Danny retorts.

“You can ride in the back,” Ethan says heading to the SUV they own.

“I much preferred our bikes,” Aiden says.

“We couldn’t afford to get yours modified,” Ethan reminds him.

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦  
∞  
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

Stiles had not been able to shake the antsy feeling all day. He was putting it down to the full moon, but, he was feeling more on edge than he had the previous full moons. He parked to the side of the cabin he’d rented, and Jackson pulled up beside him. Between the two cars they had all nine wolves and one hellhound.

Jacob was already getting over-excited to be back out in the woods for the full moon. He was barely out of the car before he was stripping off his clothing.

“Jay, we unload the cars first, eat, and then we can get naked and run,” Stiles calls after him.

“I’m with Jay,” Jackson laughs, pulling his shirt over his head, “Naked first, then unpack the cars,” he adds, dropping his pants and stepping out of them.

“Jacks, do you really want to be naked standing next to the grill cooking the steaks for dinner?” Stiles asks with a smirk. Jackson pulls his pants back up as he scowls/pouts at his alpha.

The steaks are rare, and the pack sits around in various states of undress as they eat. Jacob was naked as soon as he was out the car, Liam following close behind. Derek, Jordan, Scott, and Isaac waited until after the cars were unpacked and everything was set up in the cabin for after their run. Scott and Isaac both still had their collars on, and Scott was still locked in his chastity cage. Jackson and Stiles stripped once the food was cooked and on the table. Erica, Boyd, and Stephen stripped to their underwear.

As the moon rises, the whole pack feel the pull; the restlessness under their skin. The need to shift and run; to chase and hunt. All of them are soon out among the trees, chasing their alpha as he runs ahead of them.

Stiles disappears into a thicket of trees ahead, Derek and Jackson hard on his trail. He manages to gain more of a lead over them, pulling ahead as he dodges between the trees and turns back towards the cabin. Behind him he can hear his pack as they tussle and jostle trying to slow each other down and get pole position as they chase after him. A flash of light to his right catches his eye, he knows no-one else is supposed to be out here; he and his pack have the land around the cabin to themselves. As he turns his attention to it Derek and Jackson catch up to him, knocking him to the ground as an arrow shoots past his head just missing him.

“What the fuck?!” Stiles yells; all three of them looking shocked and turning their heads in the direction the arrow came from. Three more arrows quickly follow and the trio dive for better cover among the trees as Stiles calls out, “Hunters!” in warning to the rest of his pack.

“They’ll know,” Derek whispers to him as two more arrows close in on Stiles after he called out, “They’ll feel through the pack bond that there’s something wrong and that they need to be wary.”

“That’s no reason not to let them know what the something wrong is Der,” Stiles hisses back as he scans and sniffs in the direction the arrow came from. His eyes shift to red and silver, and he allows the change to fully take over a low rumbling vibrating in his chest as he drops to all fours, slipping his skin as his wolf emerges. His coat a dark red and tawny brown flecked with grey. He takes off, dancing between the trees, following the scent to its source; willing the trees to help him protect his pack as he runs.

As he closes in on the source of the arrows the scent changes and he picks-out the tangy metallic hint of blood; and another wolf.

Stiles bursts into the clearing to find Danny standing with a shocked expression on his face staring down at Aiden crouched over a dead hunter, his throat slashed open.

“I can’t question him now he’s dead!” Stiles complains having shifted back to human; he feels Derek and Jackson running up behind him.

“There’s more than one of them,” Aiden growls.

“Ethan is chasing the third one that was here,” Danny informs him.

“Third?” Stiles asks. Danny and Aiden look up into the trees; Stiles, Derek, and Jackson follow their gaze and find another hunter trapped in the branches, his head lolled to one side and his eyes open wide and blank.

“There were four that we overheard talking about hunting wolves in the preserve,” Aiden adds.

“So, there’s still another one around,” Jackson states.

“Work that out yourself?” Aiden smirks. Jackson snarls as he steps towards him. Stiles holds out a hand stopping him.

“I wouldn’t…” Stiles begins to lecture the smirking omega, his words stilling when the sound of a twig snapping catches his attention. He turns his head in the direction of it, the other wolves following suit.

“NO!” Danny yells, rushing to Jackson and pushing him out of the way as an arrow speeds towards them, piercing into Danny’s shoulder; the arrow head somewhere inside the human’s body.

Before the hunter can nock another arrow, Derek has him on his knees; one hand gripping the man by the throat while the hunter’s arm that had the bow is hanging uselessly at his side.

“I want him alive Der,” Stiles reminds his mate.

“I want him dead,” Jackson growls.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” Stiles growls at his brother before turning his attention to Danny, “You have a habit of putting yourself in harm’s way slave.”

“Sorry Master,” Danny grimaces; looking pale as blood seeps from the wound.

“We need to get him to hospital before he bleeds to death,” Jackson states, not hiding the concern he feels. He kneels beside Danny to pull the arrow out.

“Don’t touch the arrow, there’s a strong wolf’s bane coating the head and shaft,” Aiden informs them.

“We need to stop the bleeding!” Jackson growls, panic seeping into his expression.

“We have a slight problem there, Jacks,” Stiles grinds out from behind clenched teeth, “The arrow, and therefore the wound, is covered in something that will kill any werewolf that touches it.”

“Good thing I’m not a werewolf,” Danny states and he begins to try and push the arrow through his shoulder.

“Stop!” Stiles shouts, explaining when Danny and the betas look at him, “You don’t know if the arrow is in bone or will need to go through bone. Pulling the arrow out may cause more injury and greater blood loss. We need to get you to a hospital and have a doctor remove the arrow and clean up the wolf’s bane.” 

The sound of feet pounding on the forest floor towards them halts the conversation as Parrish followed by the rest of the pack come running, dodging between the trees, with Ethan close behind. It’s clear to Stiles that Parrish is scanning the area for signs of other hunters, and that Ethan is watching their rear.

“What happened?” Erica asks, staring down at Danny.

“He stubbed his toe,” Jackson growls, “What do you think happened?”

“Jacks,” Stiles warns him again, before turning his attention to the rest of his pack, “Okay, what happened to the other hunter?”

“He got tangled in some roots and before he turned his crossbow on me the not so human torch lit him up,” Ethan grins.

“It would be more accurate to say the roots tangled him up,” Parrish corrects.

“Okay,” Stiles hums, “At least we still have one hunter alive to question. Derek, give the prisoner over to the not so human torch, and then run to the cabin and call Deaton to say Jackson and I are brining Danny to the hospital; explain what happened.” He then bends down and rips Danny’s pink shorts from his body, leaving him naked except for his collar and exposing his Oxballs tailpipe chastity device encasing his cock and filling his ass. He wraps the torn shorts around the arrow shaft, “Here, hold this in place. Jackson, carry him back to the cabin and get him in the back seat of the SUV. You and I are taking him to the hospital…”

“But…” there are outbursts of concern and worry from the pack.

“Not everyone can come,” Stiles cuts off their argument, continuing, “It’s better of the two of us take him, and the rest of you stay here.”

Jackson’s attention throughout is fully on Danny as he slides one hand under his naked buttocks and the other around his back, trying to carefully lift him while and minimise the movement of the arrow shaft. Everyone clearly sees the black lines travelling up Jackson’s arms as he takes Danny’s pain.

“Jordan, you and Derek make sure everyone’s safe,” Stiles adds.

“Got it,” Parrish acknowledges, “And I’ll question your prisoner.”

Stiles nods his agreement.

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦  
∞  
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Stiles is rushed by his betas, who untangle themselves from the group puppy pile, when he returns to the cabin a few hours later.

“Danny is going to be fine, thought he’ll need some time to fully recover,” he answers their unvoiced question, “Jackson is staying at the hospital with him overnight.” He turns at the sound of the door opening behind him, which Jordan is walking through. “Where’s our prisoner?”

“Your dad and Braeden took him into custody,” Parrish replies, “Braeden will interrogate him and we’ll get an update from her tomorrow.”

“And the twins?” 

“Patrolling the area to check for any signs that there were more than the four hunters,” the hellhound informs him. At Stiles’ raised eyebrows he continues, “They wanted to help make sure we were safe. I think they want to join the pack.”

“What makes you think that?” Stiles asks, not saying that he had been thinking the same. He had heard that any pack that had approached them had been turned down; something that no-one seemed to understand why.

“Their body language,” Derek says, “Even Aiden showed some deference to you as the alpha.”

“And as he hasn’t chosen to join any other pack, and other alphas have offered them a place within their packs, I think they may ask to join us,” Parrish finishes.

“I’ll need to see if they get along with everyone else first,” Stiles states, everyone knowing he’s particularly referring to how Jackson reacts, “I can’t allow them into the pack if they upset the pack unity.”

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦  
∞  
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Jackson feels… numb, and relieved, and angry, and happy, and numb, and relieved. Definitely relieved.

He’s sitting on the chair beside the hospital bed that Danny is sleeping in. The doctor, Yellow Wolf, came and talked to Stiles and him after the surgery. He said there was no major damage to Danny’s shoulder and the wolf’s bane had been successfully neutralised. He told them that once Danny wakes he’ll still feel pain for several weeks and will need physiotherapy. It will take six to eight weeks for the injury to fully heal.

Danny’s contract ends in four weeks, and although he asked for an extension there is no guarantee the council will grant it them another twelve months like Danny asked for. He knows that Stiles is worried the council will consider the fact that Danny has now had two life threatening injuries while enslaved to him as unacceptable risks. 

Personally, Jackson just wishes Danny would stop putting himself in front of people shooting at him. He gets why he does it. He knows it not because Danny thinks it will make him forgive him; it’s because he doesn’t think and just reacts trying to protect his friends. He’s a lot like Stiles in that regard. And Jackson doesn’t want to lose Danny, just like he doesn’t want to lose his brother.

He lays his head down on the edge of the bed, next to Danny’s sleeping form and closes his eyes; suddenly feeling tired despite the fullness of the moon. He hopes Stiles gets answers from the hunter that they left alive. He wants retribution.

Despite his tiredness his sleep is fitful. His thought turning over the events of the night again and again, making him feel the heavy coil of worry in the pit of his stomach of what might have happened – that Danny could have died – and the pull of the full moon on his emotions is not helping; he needs to run to burn off the needs and feelings the full moon magnifies, but that is not an option. He needs to stay with Danny.

With a sigh, he closes his eyes again and lays his head in arms, crossed on the bed at Danny’s side and allows sleep to take him once more.

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦  
∞  
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

Stiles is undressing to join his betas on the collection of mattresses they have spread on the floor to sleep on when the sense Ethan and Aiden arriving back outside the cabin. He can tell they are hesitant to knock on the door, probably tempted to just walk away.

With Jordan’s words earlier confirming his own thoughts he heads to the door and opens it, ignoring the fact he’s naked; they’ve already seen him naked when the hunters attacked.

“Hey,” he greets them.

“We didn’t pick up any scent of there being more hunters in the area,” Ethan informs him.

“Good, good,” Stiles repeats, nodding his head, “So,” he adds awkwardly, “In the heat of the moment, with Danny getting shot with an arrow and all, I didn’t get around to thanking you guys for at least trying to warn us about the attack, and helping to deal with the hunters; or for trying to rescue my pack when we were held in the Union. So, thanks. And, I’m sorry about what happened to your alpha.”

“No problem, and thanks,” Ethan wanly smiles at him, while Aiden just nods his head.

“So,” Stiles says again, “What are doing now?”

“Heading back to town,” Aiden replies, causing Ethan to sharply turn and look at him. Stiles picks up on Ethan’s surprise at his brother’s comment.

“Oh,” Stiles shrugs, “We’re all pretty exhausted from… everything. Are you sure you want to drive back to town now? There’s room in the cabin, you could sleep here with us and drive back in the morning after breakfast with us…”

“Are you sure your pack would be okay with that?” Aiden asks.

“My pack will be okay with my decision,” Stiles states, “They will be happy that I’d prefer you were safely here with us that out trying to get back to town when there could still be other hunters out there. It’s not like they harbour any ill feelings toward Ethan, and even Jackson wouldn’t want to see you at the mercy of WERES fanatic.”

“Thanks, I’d like a few hours sleep before trying to drive back,” Ethan replies before Aiden can decline.

Stiles turns back to the cabin and knows the twins are following; albeit reluctantly in Aiden’s case.

Back inside the cabin, Stiles’ pack were curled around each other in the makeshift bed on the floor. Most were naked; only Erica, Boyd, and Stephen were wearing any clothing. Isaac and Scott had their collars on, and Scott was still locked in his chastity cage.

“Ethan and Aiden are going to sleep here with us tonight,” Stiles announced to them as he crawled onto the mattresses and into the centre of his pack, to be cuddled between Isaac and Derek, with all his pack intertwined with each other. “There’s plenty of room guys,” he says with a yawn to the twins, “Make yourselves comfortable.”

He can feel the uncertainty in them as they strip, and Aiden removes his prosthetic. They tentatively settle on the edge of the pack, curled tightly to each other on the far side of Parrish from the pack. Stiles also sees the longing in their eyes for the closeness of pack that inches from them.

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∞  
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Richard Vaughn smiles as he looks over the reports; every news channel, web site, and even social media alight with the story. The twenty-five member-states of the European Union that allowed the enslavement of werewolves have rescinded their enslavement laws; all enslaved therianthropes within the EU are to be freed. It closes the loop-hole within Denmark and Sweden, which had previously revoked WERES enslavement laws, where werewolves enslaved in other EU countries could be taken into those countries and would remain slaves.

Within hours of the announcement from Europe, Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, and Japan were making the same announcements. It is expected that the United Kingdom will also be removing the law allowing the enslavement of therianthropes soon.

The news has ignited calls within the United States for it to follow Europe’s lead. The appearance on screen of President Bachmann surprises him; he turns on the sound for the channel.

“… with the details that have come to light over the last few months, and the changes sweeping through our allied nations across the globe it is unsurprising that there are some very loud calls for us to follow suit. However, these changes would cut deeply into the fabric of our nation and our deeply held American ideals. There was a closed session of both houses of congress held yesterday to discuss these matters. A bill was voted on, which I have decided not to use my power of veto to block; even though this could change the very nature of the United States of America.

Congress believes that it is not a matter for federal government to determine whether the enslavement laws should be rescinded but, is a decision that should be left to each individual state. It also determined that it would be impossible for the free movement of people across state borders where differences in the enslavement laws existed. Therefore, in thirty days each state will hold a referendum, on the ballot there will be two options. These are:

  1. I believe in the right of werewolf and other therianthrope enslavement and that <STATE NAME> should remain within the United States of America.
  2. I believe in the repeal of the therianthrope enslavement act and that <STATE NAME> should join the Alliance Republic.



The future of our nation is in your hands. I trust the people of our great nation to make the right choice. God Bless the United States of America.”

“What the hell!” Richard roars. The United States being pulled apart was not part of his plan. He needs to find a way to stop this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ### Excerpt from Chapter-12
> 
>   
>  Stiles slowly wakes to the feeling of his pack around him.  
> Derek, Isaac, and Scott are the ones to his left and right; their arms either around him or stretched across to touch him. Tangled around their legs are Jay and Stephen, and beside them are Erica and Boyd. Stiles head is resting on Parrish’s stomach, and curled into the hellhound is Liam.  
> Ethan and Aiden have moved during the night, and are now on the other side of Derek, curled up close to the Alpha’s Mate.  
> As he stirs more fully awake, the pack begins to rouse with him.  
> “I guess it’s time to rise and shine,” he groans, stretching out and causing his betas to move with him, “I need to check in on Danny and Jackson.”  
> 
> 
>   
>  **§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§**   
> 
> 
> “So,” Stiles sits across from his mom and Deaton, in her office, “How about you both explain to me exactly what you both know about me that you have both kept from me.”  
> “Where to begin,” Claudia muses, looking down at the desk she is seated behind; her face full of apprehension.  
> “Well,” Stiles takes a deep breath, “My magic and where it came from, the wolf’s bane testing that was done on me by Deaton, the testing done by NME. Why don’t we start there?”  
>   
>   
> 

**Author's Note:**

>   
>    
> 
> 
>   
>  **♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦ ∞ ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦**   
> 
> 
> There are several stories I am working on. So please comment if this is one that you like; comments help me focus when I'm being pulled in different directions by thoughts jumping from one story to another.  
> Comments that I don't believe are constructive, or are merely hate, will be ignored/deleted.


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